


Don't You Just Hate Mandatory Games?

by Urhsah_Major



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, More tags will be added later, Slow Burn, game typical violence, p5 royal spoilers, plot over romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24923098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urhsah_Major/pseuds/Urhsah_Major
Summary: Arsène Lupin was just starting his career as a debonair thief, with the help of his Persona, Joker, he had modern Paris in awe at his skill and brazen heists and-Well, they will be. It's a work in progress.-------Akira Kurusu has never been so bored in his life, it has only been three months since he left Tokyo and he misses it and his friends dearly. At least he has Morgana around to remind him that summer vacation is just around the corner. Him and the rest of the ex-Thieves have been talking of meeting up again despite how hectic everybody's schedules are and he couldn't wait. With dreams of summer vacation on his mind, nothing could ruin his mood.What's this about a Game?
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Persona 5 Protagonist & Phantom Thieves of Hearts
Comments: 14
Kudos: 105





	1. The Game is afoot

The moon was bright tonight, full and brilliant, lighting up the city beneath it as if trying to outdo the sun. Its only challengers being the Parisian city lights and the Eiffel Tower’s nightly attire. Truly breathtaking. It would be a perfect night for a stroll or for a romantic evening out. Although…

A masked man pulled his hood down further, trying his best to stay in the shadows. He watched as uniformed men in the streets ran and bellowed around like headless chickens. All searching for the same prey.

...a full moon wasn’t so great for a thief looking to disappear.

Taking a steadying breath, he leapt from his hiding spot, an alcove about three stories above the street and 10 feet away from his goal. He landed with a soft clang on a metal balcony, it vibrated dully in the night air. He held his breath.

The police didn’t notice a thing. Perfect.

Slowly, he repositioned himself to face the glass doors. It was a simple lock, no problem. He had it open in seconds, opening it just wide enough for him to squeeze through without drawing attention. With the moonlight, the large room could hide nothing from him, he couldn’t help but smirk. It was the kind of bedroom he expected Monsieur Beaumont would have, extravagant, cluttered, and absolutely reeking of perfume worn by ladies of the night. Speaking of which, his victim snorred peacefully from his bed. The small amount of noise leaking through the open balcony door doing nothing. Now, to find his prize. He closed his eyes.

“Awaken, Joker.” he whispered.

He immediately felt a presence behind him. It was chilling, unsettling, but right all at the same time. He opened his eyes. The room was washed away in darkness, the outline of furniture a dull blue while things of interest were a seering yellow. Small trinkets here and there, scattered about like stars. But none was his prize. Where was it?

**Do you need these?**

Dangled just in front of him was a pair of glasses, plucked off of the desk next to the window. Long, shadow-like fingers twirled them childishly in place. He grimaced.

**No? Then I guess you’re purposely ignoring the safe above the Monsieur’s head.**

Looking over back at the bed, sure enough, the wall just above where Beaumont slept the blue outline of a safe laid hidden. Damn.

**I knew one of these days you’d find yourself in bed with a mark, although, I’d thought they’d be prettier.**

He grimaced as he snuck to the side of the bed, carefully avoiding stepping too close to Beaumont as he climbed on top, nearly toppling over as a second body moved. Of course there was a mistress.

**Oh, looks like someone already beat you to it.**

With a groan, he pulled out his knife and ran his free hand along the wall, when he felt a small divot beneath the wallpaper he couldn’t help but smirk.

**Hey.**

He took his knife and ran it alongside the seam, a perfect square. Once that was done, he tore off the wallpaper, throwing the mess aside. The safe in front of him had a keypad lock and with his vision he could see exactly which keys Beaumont’s grimy fingers touched.

**Hey.**

It was four digits, so the combinations wouldn’t be too complicated but still could take a while, he better get started-

**Hey Arsène!**

“What!” he growled under his breath.

**She’s awake.**

Arsène’s head snapped back down, sure enough, the woman was staring up at him with wide eyes. She began to open her mouth to-

Shit!

“Joker, Marin Karin!”

He didn’t bother to see if the move worked, he punched four numbers and cursed when it didn't work. He punched in another sequence, another bust. Damn it al-!

“Try 3251.” Arsène used every ounce of cool he had not to jump when the mistress broke his concentration and it took all of his dignity to strangle the yelp that tried to claw its way out of his throat when he felt fingernails dig into his thigh.

Joker had the nerve to snicker. That bastard.

He typed in the code and sure enough, the safe opened without a problem. He nabbed the small package in the safe and looked back down at the woman, who was currently naked from the waist dow- okay, he needed an out.

“Thank you Ma’am, but I must be going now.”

“Must you though?” She purred. She dug her nails in further. He winced.

“I’m afraid I do,” he said as sweetly as he could muster as he pried her fingers from his leg. “While being caught by you has been a-,” He finally managed to free his leg from her grip only for her to keep an iron grip on his hand,“-pleasure, I don’t think I’ll receive much of a warm welcome from the Monsieur.”

“Let’s not worry about him.” Arsène definitely,  _ definitely _ , didn’t yelp when she pulled him down and used that momentum to pin him down to the bed. At that moment, Arsène was faced with several unpleasant facts. One, the woman above him was feisty, beautiful, and painfully not in her right mind; two, he was sure her nails just pierced his arms; three, Monsieur Beaumont not only snored but also had a very unfortunate case of halitosis; and five, his persona was laughing at him. 

Joker, his persona, his true self, wore a tattered prison uniform with his wrists and legs bound and wrapped in chains, the ends of which floated around in the air listlessly. His face was completely covered by a bag, stained with black patches of blood that had dried long ago. The exposed “flesh” of Joker’s body was wreathed in shadows, ever changing and wild, as if they were more like fire than actual shadow. A prisoner, even in death. He was a morbid, and frankly, unflattering persona to have, a “true self” that Arsène often struggled to see within himself and that was just his grievances about Joker’s  _ appearance _ . He glared up at his persona as he cackled.

“Joker!” he hissed as he pushed the mistress away. Why did he use Marin Karin in the first place? 

**Hold on-wheeze-I got you.**

He reached out his long fingers and lightly touched the woman’s shoulder, she shivered.

“What the-?” She turned around and froze. Arsène felt a little guilty as she started trembling above him. It was quickly snuffed out when she let out an ear-piercing shriek.

“What the hell!” Beaumont yelled, bleary eyed and tipping over the edge of his bed. He landed on the floor with a solid thud. Uh oh.

Arsène tossed the woman aside, rolled out of the bed and raced towards the balcony doors all in one motion. He bursted through the doors with a bang, alerting the patrolling police below. Shit. He forgot about them.

“Joker!” he hissed as dozens of policemen aimed their guns up at him. He needed an out,  _ now _ . The sound of chains echoed all around him.

**Don’t go puking this time.**

Arsène would have loved to have said something smart, at least snappish, but he was too busy experiencing the unpleasant feeling of being lurched upwards like a doll being swung around by it’s pull-string. As he soared through the sky, the ground below him rushing past him and the chill night air biting against what little exposed skin he had, he couldn’t help but be grateful to his past self for skipping dinner tonight.

The world stopped being a miserable spinning mess after Joker oh so graciously swung him onto a familiar rooftop. Although the sound of gunshots did nothing for him.

**Hurry.**

He rolled his eyes as he lowered himself from the roof onto a narrow ledge. Hugging the wall, he made his way to a window he had left cracked open early. He dropped into the room just as a patrol of policemen came around the corner. Pulling the curtains closed, he listened to the frustrated cops below with a smirk. He pulled out his prize from his pocket. It was quite the intricate piece of work, the little Faberge Egg sat snuggly in his palm. What little moonlight that leaked through his curtains glinted off the gold, causing it to glitter almost as brightly as if he was using Joker’s vision. Monsieur Beaumont won’t miss it. Arsène’s smirk grew nasty. 

Who was he kidding?

“Another job well done, eh, Joker?”

All he heard was a deep, whisper of a laugh.

***

Arsène found himself nodding off again, this time only seconds away from face planting into his plate of eggs. This wasn’t good. He let out a loud yawn, groping blindly for his cup of instant coffee he had poured a while ago.

“Did you sleep at all last night boy?” Monsieur Lupin said, sitting perfectly poised at the other end of the dining table. His cup of coffee was still steaming and untouched as he perused the morning paper. Arsène grimaced, both at the question and at his own cup of coffee. Was it supposed to be this bitter? Did he burn it? How’d he burn coffee?

“I hope you didn’t forget that you’re supposed to be helping me today.”

“Non Pére, I didn’t.”

All he got was a snort in response. Which was rude. He really didn’t forget. Honest. Arsène looked up at his father, ready to say as much when something caught his attention. He tried really hard not to smirk.

“The thief got another one?”

“Huh?” Monsieur Lupin spared a glance at Arsène, “ah yes, Beaumont was robbed just last night. Only one thing was taken.”

“Hopefully nothing too important?” Arsène took another sip of his coffee, trying to temper his expression.

“No, not really, but it certainly has Beaumont upset. Apparently, the thief took a Faberge egg of all things.”

“Hmm, didn’t they stop making those? Wouldn’t that put all the previously made eggs’ value go up?”

“True, although I can’t imagine what’s so special about  _ one _ egg.” Monsieur Lupin set the newspaper down. “At least, I don’t see why the  _ Shadow Thief _ would even bother announcing the fact he was going to rob Monsieur Beaumont and only take one thing. In fact, I can’t find it in myself to take this thief seriously at all.”

Arsène took a long sip of his coffee.

“It’s obvious he or she has nothing better to do than to galavant at night and break into people’s homes to steal petty trinkets.”

“Maybe you’re right.” he set his cup down. “It certainly sounds like they’re just some petty thief looking for a thrill.”

“Exactly.” Monsieur Lupin nodded, finally taking a sip of his now cool drink. The rest of breakfast was spent in silence. Once they were seated in the back of a limousine, heading off to somewhere that Arsène did _ not  _ forget about did his father bother to look at him again.

“Make sure to pay attention to today's proceedings, this’ll be a good experience for when you finally take my position.”

Oh, yes. Sit around for hours listening to a bunch of old men talk their heads off about how much money they had to their name, how they can get more, and bolstering their own egos. Arsène had enough tact in him to keep his groan to himself, simply rolling his eyes. Today was going to be a long day indeed.

***

Five. Goddamn. Hours. Straight. That’s how long the financial meeting that was currently discussing the future of Lupin inc. went on. Arsène’s mind had grown fuzzy with drowsiness the longer the meeting went on. Thankfully, nobody important was paying him any attention as he nodded off for the third time. He was sure he heard a muffled giggle though. Through bleary eyes, he looked over the room. His luck finding him his target instantly. She was a small girl, slender and well put together. Her blonde hair was tied into a bun with a simple blue ribbon, which matched her blue stockings that covered her entire legs. Her pencil skirt and blouse were standard fare, the only other thing that added any color to her outfit was a pink crystal brooch. The longer he looked her over the cuter she got, and the redder her face became. Win-win. He gave her his best, and most devilish smirk before bringing a finger to his lips. She went scarlet instantly but returned with a smile of her own, bringing a dainty finger up to her lips as well.

Well look at that, he made a friend.

The meeting lasted a good hour longer, long enough for Arsène to stifle three more yawns and for him to nod off once more before the clamor of twenty elderly men rising from their chairs woke him up.

“That’ll be all gentlemen, same time next week?” Mon. Lupin addressed the entire room. Everybody was eager to agree and nodded. It was over. Finally! Arséne got up from his seat, trying to subtly stretch when he noticed the ribbon girl from across the room get up as well. Their eyes met. She started making her way towards him, Arséne couldn’t help but smirk. He liked a girl who didn’t hold back. She faltered, stopping completely before giving him an apologetic smile. Now why-?

He felt a hand grab his shoulder. Damn it.

“Come Arsène, have lunch with me and we’ll review what we went through during the meeting.”

He flashed his old man a dazzling smile. “No need, I was here wasn’t I?”

“In body perhaps, but don’t think I didn’t see you dozing off. Which will be another topic of discussion. Understood?”

Damn it. Caught. He felt his smile slip into a scowl.

“Understood sir.”

“Good, now come along.”

Just before leaving the room he turned back, his little friend nowhere in sight.

***

Arsène pinched the bridge of his nose. His mind achingly numb from lack of sleep and a relentless barrage of meaningless facts and figures. Seriously, when was his dad going to learn he had absolutely no interest in the family business. He sighed and relaxed further into the metal bench, watching his fellow parisians walk by him. Arsène had made sure to finish his lunch with his dad as quickly as possible, running out before his father was half finished with his plate. Not that it was Arsène’s fault that he had decided to spend most of his time lecturing him.

He leaned his head back, basking in the summer heat, letting the murmur of the crowd wash over him. After a while he began to pick out bits and pieces of conversation.

“Did you hear-?”

“He struck again!”

“Who was it?”

Arsène felt himself smirk.

“I can’t believe it-!”

“Ooh, I wonder who’ll get next!”

A familiar feeling of pride began to well up in his chest.

“This Shadow Thief is something else!”

“Last night makes it his twentieth heist! And the police or those rich bastards could do a thing!”

“He’s so cool!”

Yes, he was, wasn’t he. 

His smirk faltered when a deep chuckle echoed in the back of his head. With a sigh, he stretched and pushed himself up from the bench. Shoving his hands into his pockets, mumbling to the ground.

“No one asked you.”

Arsène could feel the sly smile Joker was giving him, even though he had never seen his persona’s face before. His wicked glee always expressed itself clearly despite that. Arsène woved through the crowd, palming his phone in his pocket as he went.

“Next time will go smoother.”

**Of course**

He rolled his eyes. “Screw you.”

**Do you know our next target?**

He pulled out his phone, thumbing the lock open and running through the news.

“Hmm, I will…”

**Another one of your father’s buddies?**

“Probably.”

**Y’kno-**

Arsène went still.

“Joker?”

Nothing.

He straightened and took a deep breath. He couldn’t feel him. The constant buzz in the back of his head, the repressed power and presence he had grown used to having over the past year was gone. The absence left him empty in a way he couldn’t quite describe. Arsène felt panic start to bubble in his stomach. He dived into an alleyway, hurriedly looking around for prying eyes. Once satisfied, he closed his eyes.

“Awaken Joker.”

After a few seconds of dreadful silence, he let out a ragged breath. On shaky legs, he walked back out into the walkway, letting the crowd push him forward as his mind struggled to come to terms with...whatever was happening to him.

Joker...Joker!...What the hell, answer me! Where the hell are you!

“Arsène?”

He went still, only vaguely aware of the crowd around him. He whipped around, looking for something, anything. What finally caught his attention was the boutique to his right, the windows were large and clean, mirroring the street before it perfectly. Except for Arsène. His reflection, that of a tall man with dark hair slicked back while dressed in a dreadfully boring business suit, flickered in and out. His image being replaced by...someone else. Without thinking, without knowing why, he brought his hand up to his face, as if grabbing for something and spoke.

“Awaken...Joker”

The world went still. His reflection stopped flickering, in its place was a boy, barely an adult, with frizzy hair and the dorkiest glasses he’s ever seen. He looked like he was wearing some kind of uniform, a bag slung over his shoulder. The boy’s grey eyes wide as they took in Arséne and he was sure he had a similarly stupid expression on his face as he stared down at him. The boy opened his mouth and spoke in a familiar, deep baritone he had grown used to hearing in the back of his mind.

“That you...Arsène?”

“I...” he looked around, taking in the ominously still crowd behind him, all signs of life halted as if someone had pressed pause on the world just for shits and giggles. “Yes, the hell’s going on?”

The boy stiffened, eyes looking around at...whatever. “I don’t know.”

Arsène couldn’t help it, he let out a bark of a laugh.

“Guess that makes two of us.”

The boy pushed his glasses up his nose, getting ready to say something when  _ someone _ cut in.

“You’re Players.”

An ambiguous voice echoed all around him, he and the boy whipped around, looking uselessly for the source.

“Players?” Arsène asked “For what?”

“My Game of course.”

Arsène and the boy shared a look.

“What kind of game?” the boy asked, back straightening from a slouch and his voice taking on a quality that made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for bullshit.

“I’ll explain later, once you’ve gathered all the Players. No point in going over the rules now.”

The boy scowled and honestly, Arsène couldn’t keep a sneer off his face as well.

“Now don’t be like that, I swear, this game will be  _ fun _ .”

“And if we refuse to play? What then?” He asked, folding his arms and glaring up at the sky. The voice had the nerve to laugh.

“As if I’d forget to give you Players an incentive. There  _ is _ a time limit for joining this little game of ours. You must find all your co-players within this time or else~”

Arsène stiffened but he managed to keep his voice steady.

“Or else what?”

“Or else-” the world warped, the first thing Arsène noticed was that the sky had changed from a bright blue to a dismal grey, the air suddenly felt as thick as water with each breath he took. He felt weightless and heavy all at once, searingly hot and unbearably cold. As he uncrossed his arms and whipped his head to look around, he felt nauseous and light-headed. Fighting through it, he took in the world around him. The still frozen people around him were now just silhouettes of themselves, The buildings quivered as if they were made out of smog rather than brick and mortar. Not a speck of color or life could be seen, except…

The boy in the window and Arsène himself. They were wrapped in blue fire that gave off no heat and seemed to have a life of its own, dancing and flickering without a breeze to command it. Their eyes met and then he heard it.

**I am thou**

_ Thou art I _

The flames around the boy encircled him and for a moment a form to shape behind him. Dressed in red, debonair, intimidating, and devilish. Arsène began to see double. He was looking at the boy- _ Akira Kurusu _ -from where he stood but also at himself from where he floated in the window. He saw the flames around his body had also taken shape into his persona-  **Joker** -and it took everything in Arsène not to lose his cool.

_ To be thrust into another game against your will, may this stoke the flames of your rage even further! _

**To be confined to the rules of a game you have no desire to play, shackled once more with no clear path out, let it burn you up!**

_ And together _

**And together**

**_We’ll make them pay!_ **

The flames engulfed them whole and the world returned to normal in a cacophony of color and sound. Arsène felt his heart beating uncomfortably fast, sweat dripping uncomfortably down his neck as he struggled to breath in real air once again. He was pretty sure he was on his knees, the ground beneath him biting into his skin as he struggled to regain control. Someone asked if he was okay. He wasn’t sure how to answer. 

He managed to stagger to his feet and wave off a few concerned people. He brushed his suit off and pulled out his phone, calling a cab to take him home. He needed time to think, to be alone, or at the very least, not to be a spectacle for tourists to take pictures of. He didn’t need to wait long to be picked up and as he sat and stared at the car floor, he made a point at ignoring that the reflection in the window wasn’t his own.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This here be my first fan fiction written for this site...yep! Been a life long lurker but now I'm finally contributing.  
> Gotta say, P5R had really set ablaze a passion for these characters I didn't know I would have...but here I am...bound and determine to write stories about them.
> 
> I have no set update schedule for this, I've got the first 4 chapters outline already but it's defiantly not gonna be done in anything less than twenty chapters. This'll be a long one folks!
> 
> EDIT- the accent in Arsène's name was wrong, but it's fixed now


	2. Discontent and Ruined Plans

Coming back home was everything Akira had dreaded it would be.

Fresh off the train from Tokyo, the first thing that hit Akira about coming home was how quiet everything was. The constant murmur of motion and people was instead replaced by bird calls, rustling trees, and the hum of insects. The second thing he noticed was his reception. Tight smiles and awkward _welcome back’_ s and _how are you’_ s were all he received during his first week back. It was all cordial nonsense, things that people felt like they had to say. There were even a few of Akira’s former classmates and friends who acted friendly towards him, as if they’d forgotten all about how they shunned him all those months ago. He didn’t remind them, instead giving everybody curt nods and the occasional thank you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t burn with a familiar heat whenever he heard some adult simper to him about how _They knew all along he was a good kid_ or whenever a classmate would try to open up with _Yo, Kurusu-kun, what was Tokyo like? What was it like to-_

He was the center of attention, surrounded by fake smiles and insipid personalities. It was grating.

He was a Trickster, he had stolen hearts of corrupt adults, shot a god in the face, and got into a fist fight with a wannabe-god. He’d saved the world, by his count, at least twice. He was given difficult choices and he took on responsibilities most people wouldn’t face in their entire lifetime. Taking all that into account…

He thinks he’s earned the right to be a little mad.

What he doesn’t think he deserves is feeling lonely. After spending an entire year with people he’s fought side by side with, after spending a year waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and simmering curry, a year spent learning how utterly alone he used to be before meeting all of his friends. The only things that kept him from being swallowed up by his returning loneliness and his low-burning anger was Morgana and the rest of the ex-Phantom Thieves. The entire month of April, after starting his third year of highschool, he and the rest of his friends sent messages nearly everyday. Makoto and Haru talked about their time as college freshmen with Makoto sending pictures of her immaculate apartment. Ann regularly sent selfies and photos of her time abroad, whether it was on a photo shoot or if she just wanted to gush about the latest pastry she had found. Ryuji would complain about how much homework he had or pumping himself up for his next physical therapy session. Yusuke would send progress reports on his current art project, always passionate and always willing to share little pics of his work before going over how he had come to choose the particular composition. Futaba was a constant presence in the chat, keeping their thread updated with memes and the latest news about up and coming video games or anime, Featherman R was a recurring subject, and on occasion she shared stories about her school day. Sumire was currently training hard for international but would send updates on her progress or even videos of the latest routine she was working on. Then May came along and the messages began to slow down, by June, it was barely a trickle. They were busy, he got that but…

That’s why Morgana was the best, during one of Akira’s, not mopey persay, but definitely not great days, the not-cat-but-sorta-now-a-cat had suggested that they all plan a get together.

“Geez Joker, y’know summer is not that far away, if we plan now I’m sure everybody could get their schedules to work and we can all hang out like we used to.” The little furball meowed as he sniffed the cat food Akira had bought from the general good store earlier that day. His little nose scrunched up at the bland meal.

He had wailed in protest when Akira had kissed his little furry head, but he couldn’t help it, he was just so brilliant.

Everybody was excited about it. Coordinating everybodies schedules and shifting through everything they wanted to do when they got together was a bit of a task but they had a plan. They were to all meet up in Tokyo, Leblanc of course, on July 20th. Akira and Morgana would take a train to Tokyo where he’ll take up residence in Leblanc again. Ryuji will arrive the next day and crash at Leblanc with Akira. Luckily, Ann was able to get a flight that’ll allow her to be back in Japan before the 20th. Her plan was to sleep as soon as she got back to her family apartment and shake off the jet lag as quickly as possible before meeting up with everybody. Makoto and Haru didn’t have an issue of distance to deal with but more so with time. Makoto had managed to land an internship in the police force, something she no doubt took very seriously. Haru on the other hand was juggling both her college course and her responsibilities as a Corporate figure. It took a little finagling but both of them did manage to carve out personal time for themselves. Sumire was also able to find time to hang out despite the competition coming up. Yusuke had no exhibits to attend and no one was worried that Futaba wouldn’t be able to make it.

They planned for two weeks. Two weeks of being surrounded by his best friends again. And according to his calendar he had five days left before he would have to leave for Tokyo. 

And then the universe decided to throw some bullshit his way. He was walking home from school, chatting with Morgana. The warm air was stuffy enough that the ball of fluff didn’t want to be carried in the bag, so instead he padded along the ridge of a fence. Akira could tell the little snot enjoyed being taller than him. Overall it had been a boring but decent day, and then came the quiet. At first Akira couldn’t tell why he thought that, Morgana was still talking and he could still hear the buzz of cicadas all around him. No, it wasn’t that the world was silent or that he had lost his hearing, it felt quiet because he couldn’t hear  _ them _ . His personas. He recalled the next panic induced minutes that happened, calling out their names and receiving no hum in response. Morgana asking him what’s wrong. Him trying really hard not to lose his cool in the middle of town around people who could barely tolerate him. Then he felt a tug, a call. He remembers looking up, catching his flickering reflection in the bookstore’s window. The voice calling for him was so familiar and without thinking, he called back.

“Arsène?”

Which led to his current predicament. Akira twirled his pen between his fingers, watching it spin with the same kind of intensity that Morgana devoted to watching birds flit about the bird bath in their front yard. There was just something so mesmerizing about the motion. Really helped take his mind off of things: The stress of homework, the growing anticipation for summer break, the sweltering heat that permeated the entire town, the whispers that still follow him through the town streets and halls of his school, the looks that he pretended didn’t exist and of course the latest trial fate, life, destiny has thrown his way. This new  _ Game _ and the complications it brought with it.

He looked over at the window to his right, watching the image from the corner of his eye.

Thinking about it, Akira was pretty sure his pen trick wasn’t doing a very good job of distracting him.

Setting his pen down on his desk, propping his head with his hand, he watched his warped reflection. He had a sharp face, his dark brown hair was currently unstyled, the slightest of curls forming at the ends. His eyes were sharp and a startling shade of green. Which was a little weird, why green? He guesses that a Persona-fied version of oneself doesn’t necessarily have to be true to life. The quick glimpse he got of himself as a persona was pretty wild...and unsettling.

Back to staring.

He looked older than himself, not by much but definitely an adult. He was currently wearing a dress shirt, the first couple buttons were undone, showing off the man’s chest a bit. His skin was unblemished save for a stray mole here and there. Interestingly enough, he noticed the man frown, a light blush dusting his face. That settled it.

He was a solid eight out of ten.

The man flinched, his pretty face contorting from shock to rage within seconds. The blush now overtaking his entire face.

_ EXCUSE ME _

Akira’s eyes widened.

_ AN EIGHT! _

Oops.

He mumbled into his hand, “Sorry Arsène, didn’t mean to share that.”

Although that didn’t keep the smirk from forming on his face. Arsène seethed a bit more, giving Akira the pleasure of seeing it play out in the window and feeling it in his head. It was honestly kind of-

_ You think this is funny? _

Akira winced at the cool venom behind those words. He forgot this connection was a two way street.

“Relax man, you’re gonna cause a scene.”

_ I’m in my room, I can make as much a scene as I want! _

Akira might have been able to convince Morgana that he was currently suffering a serious coughing fit but the indignation and rage boiling in the back of his mind told him that Arséne wasn’t fooled.

“Quit it,” he gasped out into his fist, “you’re gonna get me in trouble.”

_ Good _

He was sure Arsène was going for unforgiving but instead he came out sounding petulant. Which he probably should keep to himself- ah shit, too late.

The man glared directly at him. He really needed to get a better grasp over this communication trick of theirs, having to deal with his new connection with his...not-persona? Co-player? New Confidant? All the while trying not to rile him up was a challenge. Can’t exactly hide his thoughts behind a well practiced poker face and a pair of glasses. Their connection wasn’t constant but Akira hadn’t figured out the pattern to it yet. All he was able to gather was that instead of the hum of a hundred different masks keeping him company he only had one. Like in the beginning, only this time Arsène was a little more vocal and dramatic than when Akira first met him.

Now that got him thinking about this new Game again. That voice did very little in explaining exactly  _ what _ this new game was about. What was the goal? It mentioned that there were other players and something about a time limit but not who were the players or how much time they had to find them. Cryptic bullshit must be a requirement when it comes to these things. Although Akira had a hunch that could answer at least one of his questions. Well, less a hunch and more a hope really. But how to test it?

“Hey Akira.” It took Akira a moment to realize that the voice he was hearing wasn’t Arsène’s. He looked down at his desk, sitting with his tail swishing lazily behind him was Morgana, his little blue eyes staring up at Akira with concern.

“You talking to yourself again?”

No...yes? Does talking to a human version of your persona count as talking to yourself? A persona is yourself after all, so- He should probably answer Morgana before he gets even more worried.

“Sorry Morgana, you need something?”

“It’s almost dinner.”

Akira grimaced.

“C’mon now,” Morgana bunted his head against Akira’s arm. “Your mom made teriyaki salmon, you gotta sneak me a piece!”

“Didn’t you already have dinner?”

Morgana scrunched his nose. “I want real food, not yucky can stuff!”

“Alright, alright,” Akira chuckled, reaching a hand out and scratching the not-cat behind the ear, “I’ll get you some salmon.”

“Sweet!”

He watched Morgana hop off his desk and pad towards his bedroom door. It was almost weird having a door again after Leblanc, although he found a lot of things in his room that were weird to him now. He tried to fix that off course, a phantom thieves poster hung along one of his walls and a few pictures of his friends he had printed out from his phone were plastered around his room. It was simple but it made the cream colored walls of his room seem less...hollow. As he pushed himself up from his chair, he took one last look over at Arsène. He was still sitting, his green eyes staring up at him.

“See ya.” he mumbled before going to open the door for Morgana.

***

It threw him for a loop when his probation first started, sure Sojiro would sometimes feed him breakfast and he bought lunch at the school store but as far as dinner went it was completely up to Akira to feed himself. It was another tick to the already long list of things that sucked that Akira had mentally made soon after his arrest. But after a while, he found he enjoyed the freedom behind it all. If he wanted to eat out, he could, if he wanted curry, Sojiro would make sure to leave extra in the fridge for him, if he wanted to eat in his room, with friends, or not at all, it was up to him and no one else. So to go back to a scheduled dinner, where he was expected to sit and eat everything on his plate and make small talk to his parents felt a little restrictive. Still, Akira tried to get use to it again, he used to enjoy it, right? At least, he thinks he did. He looked over at his parents as he deftly snuck Morgana some salmon with a year's worth of hard earned proficiency. His mother dressed in pastels and an apron, her hair up in a bun in an attempt to combat the effects of a sweltering day, despite the a.c. being on full-blast it looks like the humid summer air was winning. She picked delicately at her salmon. His father sat stoically, his hair more grey than black now and his face more stone than flesh. Only opening his mouth to eat, he answered his wife with hums and nods as she tried to keep some chatter going.

“So Akira,” he locked eyes with his mother, she gave him a pleasant smile. “You must be excited to go back to Tokyo, right?”

He nodded.

“I know you may not want to think about this so close to your trip but have you thought about universities yet?”

_ One that’ll accept me despite my record, right? _ He wanted to say instead he shrugged and shoved a piece of fish in his mouth.

“Well ask your friends about what they’re thinking about when you see them, maybe they’ll inspire you to think it over more.” Her smile was sweet but there was a definite sour undercurrent. This was his dad’s cue to jump in.

“I’m not sure his friends are the university type sweetie.”

An unfair judgement and one solely made based off a cursory look at a few photos Akira was forced to share with his parents. His dad saw Ryuji’s blonde hair, Ann’s foreign hair and eyes, Futaba’s odd posture and had written them off. Nevermind the fact that two of his friends were currently in University. Nevermind the fact that Futaba was one of the most brilliant people he knew and could get into any school she wanted, or the fact Ann was putting her all into her ambition, or that Ryuji was working his butt off in physical therapy so he could be in good enough condition to get a scholarship. But his dad didn’t see that. He saw what he wanted and dismissed them. He felt that familiar sensation burn within him, that made him heat up and made him tense. He didn’t know whether or not he wanted to growl or yell, instead he smothered that feeling and scowled at his meal. He should say something, he should keep his mouth shut, he should  _ say _ something, he should-

“Ow!” Akira dropped his chopsticks as he felt claws pierce his leg, shit, he really should convince Morgana to let him cut his nails. Speaking of which, the not-cat was saying something.

“Akira, somethings wrong!”

“What is it?” He winced out, Morgana jumped up into Akira’s lap, placing his front paws onto his chest as he looked up at him with the most distressed look that Akira has ever seen on a cat.

“He’s gone!”

“Who-?” Then it clicked. So his hunch was right.

“Akira, what have I said about that damn cat of yours! He’s not allowed at the dinner table!” his dad bellowed.

“Have you been feeding him scraps again!” his mother yelled alongside him.

“Akira!” Morgana cried out, nails digging into his shirt.

“Excuse me.” He said, scooping Morgana in his arms as he made a hasty retreat back to his room. Ignoring his parents protests. He plopped his not-cat onto his bed, watching him pace a bit before beginning.

“You can’t feel Diego anymore.”

“Yes!” he screeched back, tail puffing out in distress. “How’d you know?”

Akira ran through his head, back to earlier today, what he did, what Arséne said he did.

“Have you tried calling for him?”

“N-no, um,” Morgana closed his eyes and braced himself. “Diego!”

They waited a few tense seconds before Morgana yowled. “It didn’t work!”

What else, what else? What was he missing?

A window, both Arsène and him were looking at a window at the time. That must be important. Akira snapped back into focus, ready to pick Morgana up and bring him to the window but stopped. Morgana was perfectly still, staring intently across his room. Akira followed his gaze. He was looking at a mirror. All Akira saw was his cat but he was sure Morgana was seeing a little more than that. His suspicion confirmed when the cat opened his mouth and a whispered name came out.

“Diego.”

Then the world went grey again. His room became a hazy world of black and white, the air turned thick and the temperature fighting to be as volatile as possible. The only source of color, like last time, were the blue flames that encircled Akira, and now, Morgana. He looked over at the mirror again.

Instead of a cat’s relection there stood a man. He had long, dark hair, pulled up into a low ponytail; Olive skin that he showed off with a loose v-neck shirt; and a physique that matched his persona self. Both of them seem to be looking around for something.

“A Game? What in the world are you talking about?” Morgana yelled up at the sky. The man in the mirror said something too, but Akira couldn’t hear him. Then the flames around them morphed into personas before engulfing the both of them in flames. The flames grew so bright that Akira had to shield his eyes and when he brought his arms down he saw that the world had returned to normal. Morgana stared at the mirror for a couple of minutes, long enough to make Akira worry, before looking up at him.

“We need to call the others and tell them about this...Game,” then he smiled like only a cat can smile, “it looks like the Phantom thieves are making a comeback.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, this one had a lot more exposition than I wanted but it's a necessary evil I swear! That and I haven't decided how exactly I wanna write Akira quite yet. Everybody else I know but he's an enigma...for now. Next Chapter we're hopping back to Arsène.
> 
> EDIT: So stupid, I forgot about third-tier Personas  
> 2 EDIT: Arsène, why's your name got an accent in it!?


	3. Search List

The first thing Arsène felt when consciousness returned to him was his duvet smothering him. With a drowsy effort, he pushed his covers off himself and took in his surroundings. He was in his room, his curtains drawn so that the morning light couldn’t sneak in and wake him up too early. If he bothered to push himself up from his bed he’d see that his room had hardly changed from last night. Neat in every aspect as long as one didn’t count the various outfits and shoes that laid strewn about the room. His alarm clock soundlessly counted down the minutes to his first alarm at 8:00, he looked at it with a bleary gaze, his mind sluggish deciphered the red numbers. He had ten minutes to go. He groaned and rubbed his face with both of his hands. Well, he was already up.

He went through his routine in a haze, stepping over a shirt here and tripping over a boot there. Arsène managed to make it to his bathroom bruise free and with a white dress shirt he had already started to button up, and a pair of slacks draped over his shoulder as he flipped the lightswitch. He blinked a few times, eyes watering just a bit at the harsh light before opening them to look at his mirror.

And the only thing looking back was his reflection.

Arsène saw his brow furrow in the mirror, why did that seem wrong? That’s what he’s supposed to see. He heard a familiar cackling in the back of his head as he grabbed his toothbrush. Now why did that seem wrong too?

“What?” He asked through a mouthful of toothpaste. The snickers he got in return weren’t very helpful.

**You’re incredibly dim in the morning**

Arsène spat into his sink and glared at his reflection.

“It’s not like you’re a font of knowledge and wisdom yourself.”

**Hey pot, I’m kettle**

He rolled his eyes and picked up his hair brush.

“You’re unusually chatty this morning, you don’t start harassing me until noon most days.”

**Something exciting happened yesterday** another deep chuckle  **I was just curious what today would bring**

Something exciting? What could he-

Arsène’s eyes widened. He watched as his face turned red as his persona broke into deafening laughter in his head.

**Brain finally caught up, did it?**

He covered his eyes with his hand and groaned.

“So that wasn’t just a fever dream?” He rubbed his eyes and looked back at his mirror. “Then why can’t I see him now?”

He didn’t get an answer. That’s fine, he wasn’t really expecting one. He finished the rest of his routine just in time to meet his father for breakfast.

***

Today he was expected to help arrange a meeting between his father and a few of his business partners and guests. It was a small affair and he didn’t know exactly what was going to be discussed but he was still the one that had to make the calls and reservations and all the other tedious nonsense. But after this he would have the entire afternoon to himself. He was convinced it would be a short task but the short list of acceptable venues his father had given him to contact were either full or exorbitant in price, they were complaining that he was asking too much in too short a time. A conference hall by tomorrow? No can do. A boardroom ready by 11:00 tomorrow? I’m sorry, but we have something around 3:00, if that’s okay? We have availability ready at the same time next week, is that good? Arsène was ready to bang his head against a wall, or a table, or any surface really.

“11:00 you say, let me check...Yes! We have a room available at that time, would you like me to book you in now?” The sixth receptionist he talked to today had said.

_ Yes, finally!  _ He wanted to say but instead he said “How much for it?”

Arsène had to hold back a sigh and looked over his list again. What she was asking for wasn’t  _ too _ bad, but there were still two more names on the list he could try and see for a better deal.

Then again…

“Sound perfect.”   


“Wonderful!” She replied. “What do you want it to be under?”

“Lupin.”

“You’re all set, we can’t wait to see you.”

“Thank you very much.” He said as pleasantly as he could before ending the call. Now with that piece of business out of the way he can-

His phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, it looked longer than most phone numbers he’s seen, this one starting with 011. Whatever. He declined the call. Now what should he do for the rest of tod-

His phone buzzed in his hand, it was the same caller. He stared down at his phone before declining the call again and waited. Nothing. Well then, Arsène pushed himself up from his desk and stretched. He was thinking about hitting up a bakery for lunch, yeah that sounded-

His phone rang. Again. The same number displayed on the screen. He groaned before accepting the call.

“Oh, you picked up, great-!” It was a man and whoever he was, his french was heavily accented. Although Arsène wasn’t sure if it leaned more towards american english or spanish. Regardless, he cut him off with as much pleasantry as he could muster.

“This is my work phone, please take me off your calling list, thank you.” And then he hung up.

Damn telemarketers. Probably wanted his credit card info or trick him into some kind of scam. A bunch of con artists with no style or morals. Nothing like him of course. Speaking of which, he still needed a new target. Even with whatever nonsense that happened yesterday, he still had a career to pursue. He felt the corners of his mouth lift up. That’s what he’ll do today.

Time to find his next target.

***

Arsène took a long sip of his coffee. Taking the moment to relax in the plush chair he had snagged. A library wasn’t the most conventional place to have breakfast, even less so for plotting out his next target, but he figured if a library was a good enough space to studying for his business exams and come out with a passing grade, then the slightly less frustrating and much more exhilarating task of finding another target would go just as swimmingly. It’s worked for the last seven targets, he was sure it’d bring him luck again. He looked down at the papers laid out onto the table in front of him. He had narrowed it down to three candidates. 

Madame de Winter, a shrewd business woman that clawed her way to the top, using whoever she pleased as a ladder to that destination. Clever and opportunistic, an ideal mix that made her a formidable name among business circles. She also had an annoyingly picky attitude about her coffee. One time she spat out a cup of scalding hot coffee onto a poor waitress, complaining about how  _ dull _ the flavor profile was or something. A total ass. Definitely on his list. The issue he wasn’t sure what she valued most. He definitely had to do more research on her.

Monsieur Goemon, who was invited to Paris solely so he could meet with Madame de Winter and her partners, was well known for his contributions to various other companies and charities. He himself was no CEO or anything but he was trusted with maintaining and facilitating company growth. From his records he had been working under de Winter for some time but it has only been within the last couple years he has received any recognition for it. From his travel expenses it seems he had made the trip a family one. Arsène scrolled on his computer, a tabloid picture of Goemon and his son getting off a plane. With them traveling, Goemon wouldn’t have brought anything too valuable, but what kind of person would Arsène be if he didn’t give the traveling man a good Parisian welcome. At least the kid would get to go home and say that the famous Shadow thief had robbed him. Maybe he should leave an autograph, really make it special.

Monsieur Perrault, he, he was a different story entirely. While the other two were powerful and well-known, he had picked Perrault for largely personal reasons-He ignored the  _ highly _ unwarranted snicker that echoed in his head- truly, out of his choices, Arsène was heavily leaning towards Perrault as his target. He just wanted to go over all of his options first and after going through it all, to his delight, it looked like Perrault was his next. He was powerful, check, he was well-known, check, he was a snobbish-elitist Jerk, check, but most importantly, he was a long time partner to Lupin industries and any scandal with Perrault would have a ripple effect. Especially if the Shadow Thief made this next heist a spectacle. 

Which he fully intended on doing.

**And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he has spent the majority of your life criticizing and comparing you to your father for the past ten years? Or are you still stewing over the time he called you ‘a little dim’ in a room full of your father’s friends?**

“You  _ know _ that’s not all of it.” He hissed, low enough not to draw attention to himself. “And what thirteen year old wants to be mocked and then laughed at like that anyway, what kind of adult does that?”

**You laughed with him**

Arsène snarled, not knowing if his frustration was with his younger self or the smirking, he knew that the bastard was smirking, manifestation within himself. Yes he laughed, because he couldn’t do anything else-no, he thought that was what he  _ had _ to do. But he was done with being a simpering coward. He shedded that a year ago when he met Joker. When he became the Shadow Thief. He’ll make all those elitist bastards realize how little they actually are, make them realize they weren’t above it all, he’ll tear down their golden towers brick by brick to make them taste humiliation.

He’ll make it so they were too scared to fall asleep at night in fear they’ll lose that one precious thing, that one thing that made them everything they were, that-

“Shit!” he hissed as coffee soaked his hand and splattered onto his lap, soaking into his pants and staining the fabric. It wasn’t hot, so he didn’t have to worry about that, but it still sucked. He looked at his cup to see what could have possibly caused the mess and felt his face heat up. The styrofoam to-go was completely crushed, his fingers having pierced through the soft material at some point.

This was embarrassing.

He took a quick scan of the library, no one saw. Good. Getting up and trying not to spill anything on the carpet, he dumped his crushed container into a nearby trashcan before speed walking to the nearest bathroom. There was nothing he could do about the stain now. Should he go home and change? No, too far and too many people will see. But just as many people would see him if he were to go to a store and buy a new pair of pants. It’d be faster though. Damn this was annoying.

Arsène opened the bathroom door, the creaking hinges making him cringe and cast a look over his shoulder. No one was looking. No one cared. Why would they? His self-conscious ass cared though. A lot. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked up to one of the sinks and grabbed some paper towel, fighting the rising heat to his face. This is fine, totally fine. He’ll call up one of the maids back home and ask them to send a chauffeur, with a clean pair of slacks and he’ll make use of that time by outlining a plan for his heist. He already knew what he wanted to steal from Perrault, it was just a matter of getting to it with as much flourish as possible.

No stupid mistakes this time.

**Who’re you stealing from and why?**

Arsène froze, eyes still focused down towards the sink where he was about to dampen the paper towel. The voice in his head still held that same baritone to it but it was noticeably...younger. He looked up and saw the drowsy face of a japanese boy, a yawn escaping from his mouth.

“...Did you  _ just _ wake up?”

“No.” he said with the most deadpan expression Arsène had ever seen.

“It’s one o’ clock.”

“Over there in alt-Paris sure, but here in good ol’ Japan it’s still early as hell.”

“...You know lying doesn’t work when we literally share a mind-link connection with each other.” Arsène said, giving the boy his best sneer. “And the fact that we figured out that whatever weird magic that’s at work here, our time-space shit are aligned so-”

There was that goddamn smirk, it was one thing to feel it in his mind or hear it in his persona’s voice but to actually see the wolfish thing in person was nearly as infuriating as he’d expected.

“Time-space shit? That a technical term?”

“Yes, as of right now, it is. Now, back to my point, who sleeps in ‘til one?”

“It’s sunday.”

“So?”

“No school.”

“Have you no social life to speak of?”

“Sure I do, it’s just my friends don’t live nea-” Akira flinched, his face pinched in pain as he looked over his shoulder at something Arsène couldn’t see. “Morgana, watch the claws.”

Ah, the cat. Which of last night was another player in the game they were going to play. He wasn’t entirely sure how a cat of all things counted as a player or even had a persona in the first place but whatever. Apparently it can talk, or so Akira claims but Arsène wouldn't put it past the boy to make that up to mess with him. Actually, it would make way more sense if the cat part of it was a joke. It’d make way more sense if that was the case. Regardless, whatever conversation Akira was having with his not-cat seemed to be over because now he was looking back at Arsène with a serious face.

“Hey, quick question.”

“What?”

“Have you gotten any weird calls recently?”

Arsène raised an eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, I have, why?”

“Did you answer them?”

“Yes.”

Akira’s eyes flicked back to his shoulder.

“Morgana says you didn’t.”

“I did. I just didn’t stick around to talk.”

“Well next time you get a weird call, pick up and  _ actually _ talk to him this time. We’re trying to get everybody connected and on the same page here. It’d be great if you’d cooperate.” He said through another yawn.

What. A. Fucking. Brat.

“Noted.” Arsène said with a nasty smile. “So are you running on the theory that all your friends are going to become a part of all this too?”

“Yeah.”

“Based solely on the fact that they’re the only persona users you know? You know there are probably dozens of persona users that you don’t even know about that could very well be a part of this.”

Akira seemed to think about it for a bit, bringing a hand up to mindlessly twirl at a loose curl.

“...No, I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

Was it confidence, bravado, or petulance? Regardless of the source, Arsène felt something twist and curl inside him. He cringed when he recognized the feeling. Jealousy. He was jealous of this flippant, over-confidant  _ boy  _ and how unfazed he was over all of this. Did it make sense to feel this way about your own persona? Akira Kurusu was still, in some way, Joker. Then again, he had only been talking to him since yesterday, what did he actually know about the boy. Joker was a famed leader of thieves, known for his cunning and inscrutable ability to instill fanatic loyalty in his subordinates. His tale ended in tragedy when he was finally caught and executed for his crimes. The story goes he was offered a stay of execution in exchange for the names of his crew members. Instead of sharing a single name, he had laughed at the official before head butting him and ordering the executioner to do his job. They left his body hanging overnight and when the sun rose the next morning, he was gone. Now what did this scrawny kid in the mirror have in common with that? How much in common did Arsène have with his persona-fied self? He had only seen it briefly; a lot of red, horns, and wings but not much to link himself to except the overwhelming certain knowledge that he and that persona were one and the same...and by extension so were Arsène and Akira. If that was the case, why did he feel so-

Arsène flinched as his phone chimed loudly. The noise echoing off the bathroom walls, making it painfully hard to ignore. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. Yep. The same number from before. He accepted the call.

“You picked up?” It was the same person from before if their accented french was anything to go by. “I am speaking to Arsène Lupin, correct?”

“You are.” he confirmed, Akira cocked his head in the mirror. “Who’s this?”

“Good. I’m Diego Vega. I suppose you know why I’m contacting you.”

“You mean how we’re players in some game with no clear rules or objectives? And how the weird human versions of our personas,” Akira snorts, a crooked smirk on his face “are insisting that we get in touch for the purposes of finding the rest of our party?” 

“Well, yes. Exactly.” The man on the other line says, “Speaking of which, are you in front of a reflective surface at the moment?”

“Unfortunately so.”

“Uh, okay, good, this is as close to a meeting we can get with the few of us that are in the game right now. I suggest we keep this brief though, this phone bill is going to get costly if it goes on for too long.”

Arsène frowned. “Where are you calling from?”

“California.”

He bristled and he could vaguely hear himself hiss. An international call, shit, that’s gonna be a hard expense to explain to his father. Arsène caught Akira staring at him and to turn his already sour mood worse, the little prick was smiling at him. It was just as crooked as his smirk and no less obnoxious. If that’s how Joker smiles then Arsène was glad he couldn’t see his face when he summoned him.

“I...see. Yeah, let’s make this quick.”

Akira and Morgana, explained that they were sure that their group of friends were also part of this game and that they were meeting up with them in a couple days. Akira had sent out a mass text explaining the situation to his friends and was currently waiting for responses. Arsène couldn’t help but point out that if the boy had woken up earlier then he’d have his answers sooner instead of wasting half a day asleep. He had quipped back with something juvenile but before Arsène could fall into an argument, Diego forcibly returned them back on topic.

“It’s as good a lead as anything, can you give me their names?”

“Who’s names?” Arsène asked with Akira echoing him less than a minute later. Diego sighed heavily on the other end of the line. In the mirror, realization dawned on Akira’s face followed by a shy smile, he patted the air above his shoulder.

“Just kidding Morgana, I knew what he meant.”

Arsène was tempted to call him on his bullshit but for the sake of time and his phone bill he let it go.

“I plan on tracking down our other players and contacting them as well. Hopefully, we’ll get lucky and they’ll be in the same area as one of us and if not then just a short trip away.” Diego explained. Arsène watched as the information delay finally caught up to Akira. The boy hummed to himself before speaking.

“That’s if their persona names match their human names.”

Another delay before Diego spoke. “Excuse me?”

“Well,” Akira brought a hand up to his bangs and began to fiddle with an errant curl. “Arsène’s name is the same but...I guess I’m not sure  _ which _ name will work.”

The cat must be saying something because Akira had his head turned over to his shoulder.

“You have a point.” Akira pulled his hand down, and looked at Arsène directly. “Got a pen and paper on you?”

He did not and holy hell that was a lot of names: Captain Kidd, Seiten Tasei, William; Carmen, Hecate, Célestine; Goemon, Kamu Susano-O, Gorokichi ; Johana, Anat, Agnes ; Necronomicon, Prometheus, Al Azif ; Milady, Astarte, Lucy; Cendrillion, Freya, Ella.

“And how,” Arsène felt a headache coming on, he pinched the bridge of his nose to try to abat it. It wasn’t working “are we supposed to find any of them with just  _ that _ to go on?”

“I noticed you left Arsène’s and my name out of the list.” There was a pause where he was sure Morgana said something. “Yes, but...I notice the names came in threes, why’s that? And if so what names accompanied ours?”

A delay then Akira answered.

“Their personas evolved.”

They...they can do that?

“Zorro, Hermes, and then Diego, that’s the order my persona...self went through? I see.” Diego paused, giving Arsène enough time to catch back up to the conversation at hand. “And what about-?”

“He was always Arsène Lupin.” Akira answered, already anticipating the question.

“Really? I- that is to say- your pesona never evolved?” he heard himself ask.

Akira hummed to himself for a moment. “Well...yeah.” he looked over at his shoulder again.

“Satanael?” Diego asked.

Akira shook his head.

“He was similar...but different, he wasn’t Arsène but,” he went quiet, chewing on the inside of his cheek before speaking again. “You were a part of him, if that makes any sense.”

Arsène thought about it.

“Absolutely not.”

Akira chuckled.

“Then maybe it’s the same with the others?” Diego said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well...kinda like how Diego is my actual name but over there I’m known as Zorro and over here Akira is known solely as Joker. So if that pattern holds up then would it be farfetched to say that it’s true for the others?”

Arsène felt himself nodding. It’s a better lead than nothing. But still...

“Y’know, you would be doing everybody a favor if you took the time to research all of this.” He said, quirking an eyebrow up as he faced Akira in the mirror. “I’m sure you can easily look up all these legends and what not yourself and help narrow down the search. Instead of having us go shooting in the dark for all of this.”

Akira, for his part, does not look sheepish, but the connection that was active between them made it really hard to miss. The boy gave him a crooked smile.

“Of course. I just wanted everybody to be on the same page before deep diving, is all.”

Bullshit and they both knew it. He felt the corners of his mouth curl up. “Sure.”

“No really.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Given the information available,” Diego interrupted, knowingly or not, who's to say, “ I can try to see if I can find at least a few of them, or at least narrow down our search radius. But further research on your side would help a lot. I’ll keep in touch if I find anything. If I do, expect a call around the hours of seven to ten pm your time.”

“What?”

“Sorry, that’s right, uh, 19:00 to 22:00 your time.”

“That's right, time zones, how late is it over there for you?”

Arsène heard a loud sip of something, for Diego’s sake, he hoped it wasn’t anything caffeinated.

“Late, I’ll be crashing after a little research, but I’ll report back if I find anything. I guess, I look forward to figuring out this mystery with all of you.” Then he hung up.

“Yeah, probably a good idea to wrap things up here.” Akira said, “I guess I got myself some homework to do,” he paused. “Shit, I actually do have an assignment to do though.”

“Suck it up.”

The boy pouted. “Guess I’ll have to, damn, there goes a perfectly good sunday.”

“You poor soul. It’s not as if you had the time to do it earlier anyway, too bad.”  
“Damn right, sundays are just too short.”

“Waking up at 1 o’ clock would make it feel that way, yeah.”

Arsène grinned as Akira laughed. 

This wasn’t so bad. He thought to himself, finding himself relaxing. Sure, it was still weird and he had no idea where any of this was going, but...there’s nothing wrong with letting things unfold and seeing where they went. He and Akira said their goodbyes and he moved away from the bathroom mirror, making his way to the door. Thinking about it now, it was amazing nobody walked in during any of that conversation. It wasn’t exactly short. Arsène shrugged to himself and chalked it up to luck. He went to push the door open and looked down. He swore.

He forgot about his  _ goddamn _ pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Game!Arsène: Suave, Intimidating, Mysterious, Got his shit together
> 
> Human!Arsène: A mess
> 
> EDIT: Chapter title and Arsène's accent


	4. Chats and Confrontations

“Did you find anything out?”

Akira stopped his scrolling to look over at his furry roommate. After talking to the mirror for a good twenty minutes he was tasked with info gathering, and if the clock on his phone was correct he had been at it for the past two hours.

Damn, his eyes burn.

“Yeah,” he rubbed his eyes and rolled his shoulders, he definitely stayed still too long. “Although I’m not sure how much of it is gonna help.”

“Hmm,” Morgana jumped up onto his desk and looked over the scrawled out notes Akira had been taking during his research. He then placed a white paw down on a passage. “This looks promising.”

After nudging his paw aside, Akira re-read his notes. It was a list of all his teams personas, their names, the countries their stories were from, and any author or story teller that wrote or spread their tale. He wasn’t sure whether those real world details would be of any help though, maybe he should focus solely on the fictional details of each persona to find them, after all, did the public really care if Goemon was a nobleman by birth or a man raised by ninjas as a boy, or whether Johanna was german, and how does public cognition even rectify the hundreds or retellings of Cinderella? Like, should he tell Arsène to check out every woman in China cuz that’s where the story  _ supposedly _ was first told? Or should he tell him that she’s somewhere in France because that’s where the most popular version of her story takes place? How the hell is Necronomicon gonna manifest in Arsène’s world when in the stories it’s a  _ book _ ! Would a book be easier to find than a person? Can a book have a persona? Wait, how could it be a persona in the first place? Maybe he should ask Morgana-

Oh, Morgana was giving him a look. He should probably tune back in now.

“What looks promising?” he said as smoothly as possible.

“Ugh, really,” the not-cat rolled his eyes. “It’ll help narrow down where to look. Even if they end up being duds, at least we have some starting point. And I think I’ll relay the author names to Diego as well.”

“Won’t that just be excess information?”

Morgana gave his best impression of a shrug.

“It’s just something to keep in mind, in case he doesn’t get anything with the names we already gave him. Besides-”

Akira stifled a laugh, Morgana had jumped and his tail was puffed up, completely startled by his phone buzzing against the desk. Trying to regain his composure, Morgana licked his chest and glared up at Akira, daring him to say anything. He kept his face neutral as he picked up his buzzing phone, he can laugh about this later with everybody else. Speaking of which, the chat was blowing up. He read the first few messages:

**Ex-Phantom Thieves: Getting the Band back together!**

**Ryuji:** Man is just me or are these things getting worse

**Ann:** No they totally are!!!

**Sumire:** I agree, even my coach has noticed that I’ve been sluggish lately. Honestly, I wish that was all I felt :(

**Ryuji:** I know right!

**Futaba:** Not that I’m not down w/ complaining about our lives and the unfairness of it all but 

**Futaba:** ANN WHY ARE YOU AWAKE RIGHT NOW?!?!?!

**Sumire:** That’s right, isn’t it morning over there in the states?

**Ann:** Yep! 

**Ann:** 3:45 

**Ann:** I got a flight to catch after all!

**Makoto:** So when can we expect you to arrive?

**Ann:** Hi Makoto!

**Ann:** If all goes well, 6:00 pm

**Makoto:** I see, I’ll make sure to be on time.

**Ann:** Thanks again for picking me up, I appreciate it <3!!!

**Makoto:** Not a problem, and judging from the previous topic, you all have been having just a bad time with this as well?

**Ryuji:** They just keep getting worse, and I swear they’re happing more!

**Makoto:** *happening

**Ryuji:** Whatever

Akira frowned. Getting worse? It’s only been a day since this all started.

**Akira:** Are you guys okay?

**Futaba:** Done lurking I see

**Ryuji:** Yo Akira!

**Ryuji:** Yeah the weird grey world shit that we keep being sent to is really effing me up

He remembered what it was like the few seconds he was there, before “connecting” with Arsène. The sensations were uncomfortable but not unbearable. Now that he thought about it though, he didn’t really know how long his friends were stuck in that other world, for him and Morgana it was over quickly. That voice mentioned a time limit, was it referring to this? If so...

**Akira:** How so?

**Sumire:** They’re...exhausting

**Futaba:** And painful

Painful!?

**Yusuke:** If I were to describe it I would say it is as if one were experiencing the sensations of being underwater and at the top of a mountain at the same time. Being burned alive but freezing in the same breath. Feeling oneself being stretched to its limits while also coiling in on itself. Surrounded by the monochrome world stuck in stasis. Truely, an unique and exhilarating experience.

**Futaba:** jfc Inari

**Ryuji:** Dude

**Yusuke:** However, I wouldn’t mind if it stopped.

**Akira:** How long are you guys stuck in there?

**Makoto:** Not long, I don’t think

**Makoto:** At least, no time seems to pass in the real world

**Futaba:** It feels like 4evvvvvvvaa

**Futaba:** But I think it’s only a couple minutes

**Haru:** I concur, we’re not there for very long

**Ann:** Everybodys here!

**Haru:** Yes! I just left a meeting.

Akira sat back in his chair, only vaguely aware he’s bouncing his leg. If that’s the effect that the odd world had on everybody in only a day, how much worse would it be on everybody in a week or a month? Would it get worse? Or would it just slowly exhaust everybody until they couldn’t function anymore? They weren’t given a set time limit, so the only conclusion that he could come to is that their own bodies were the time limit. How long could they last without “connecting”. What would happen if they didn’t make it? What if-?

“Hey,” He felt a cold nose press against the back of his hand. He looked down to see Morgana looking up at him with serious blue eyes. “We got this.”

Akira stared down at his fuzzy roommate. He then patted his head.

“You’re a good kitty.”

“I’m not a-wait-uugh!” Akira dexterously avoided claws as he swiveled in his seat and jumped right back into the chat.

**Akira:** Remember everybody, keep something reflective on you at all times

**Akira:** Or been near something reflective

**Haru:** Of course!

**Ryuji:** Read ya loud and clear

**Futaba:** Who says spending your entire day in front of a computer screen was bad for your health Mwehehehe!!!

**Ann:** No problems here! I got a compact in my purse in case anything happens on the plane

**Yusuke:** I have already removed my curtains and moved most of my current piece to the bathroom, while not ideal, it does mean I’m in view of the mirror most of the day

**Makoto:** I suppose it’s the only thing we can do in hopes of the chance our personas catch their reflections as well

**Haru:** With Arsène and Diego working hard to find our personas, I’m sure we’ll be fine Mako-chan!

**Makoto:** I didn’t mean to sound like I was doubting

**Makoto:** I just wish there was more  _ we _ could do

**Akira:** I know the feeling

They texted for a little bit longer before Akira exited out of the chat and pushed himself out of his chair, stretching his limbs. He’s been cooped up all day and he’s feeling sore.

“Going out Mona, wanna come with?”

“Hmm,” Mimicking him, Morgana stretched. “I’m gonna relay some info to Diego first, I’ll catch up with you later.”

Akira nodded, grabbing a light button up and wearing it over his black shirt, and made sure to open his door as quietly as possible. Using all of his phantom thief experience, he made his way through the hallway on light and swift feet and while taking the stairs he made sure to avoid the third to last step. For some reason that one floorboard  _ screamed _ anytime any pressure was put on it. He really wanted to leave home without an encounter. How was he supposed to know he was going to be ambushed on his way out.

“Oh Akira!”

Shit!

“Would you like to help your mother with the garden?”

He should have gone out the back.

“You know my back hasn’t been the best lately and being on my knees for so long is bad for me.”

Even his bedroom window would have done, he could make that jump, probably.

“Well, don’t just stand there, grab some gloves.”

Without a word, he walked over to his mother. She was in a tank top, already smudged with dirt, and a sun hat that she had gotten as a present from him when he was thirteen. She practically beamed when Akira put on some gloves and knelt down besides her. Watching her from the corner of his eye, he began to tug up weeds and clip off dead growth from healthy flowers. His mother hummed approvingly.

“You look like a pro! When did you learn to be so good at this?”

“One of my part time jobs was at a flower shop.” He said. He never did go in too much detail about his time in Tokyo, he talked about his grades, his friends, and how well behaved he had been. The first gets only minor approval, the second receiving frustratingly an unfair amount of judgment, and the last getting him awkward smiles and _ Of course you behaved, you couldn’t afford not to _ . It was clear that both his parents were still upset with him, even though it was never his fault to begin with, but they both mutually and silently agreed not to bring it up. Which. Was. Fine. Sure.

“Really? Well that explains it then.”

But maybe things were finally settling. It’s been awhile since he’d seen his mother so relaxed around him. It was actually...kinda ni-

“I’m surprised they let you work considering-oh! Nevermind.”

She flashed him a strained smile, it showed way too much teeth and her laugh was painfully fake.

“You said one of your jobs? How many more did you have?”

“...Three.” not including Crossroads or any job he actually wasn’t being paid money to do.

“Wow! That’s impressive but...why would you need so many? What teenager needs that much money?” She tried to go for cheerful and interested but landed squarely in  _ clearly suspicious _ .

“Gifts and outings with friends.” Not a complete lie: He’s still not sure what possessed him to buy that silver bangle but at least Ryuji seemed happy to get it; Yusuke was almost in constant need of cash, whether for food or the train fair; Crepe dates with Ann didn’t break the bank but were frequent enough that it added up; Futaba was an expensive person to buy for, whether it was figurines or some obscure piece of tech that she wanted; And Morgana’s sushi was not cheap.

And that didn’t even cover official Phantom Thief outings. He visited Penguin shooter with everybody so often that the owner knew all their names and Jazz Jin-

He tugged off some dead petals off a flower with a little more force than necessary and accidentally took off some healthy petals. He watched them flutter down to the soil with solemn silence.

“Oh,” she looked at Akira with surprise clearly written on her face. Did she think he was using the money to buy drugs and weapons for nefarious purposes? Cuz she would be dead wrong.

Saving Tokyo from corrupted adults and the world from delusional gods was the farthest thing from nefarious.

“Well, I hope you saved some of that money for yourself. You’ll need it for the future you know. You can’t blow it all on fun and friends.”

“I know.”

“Especially since-oh, um…”

Akira let out a sigh. His mother tensed up next to him.

“This isn’t easy for us either.” she said in a whisper, setting down her trowel. “I wish we could do something to make everything...go away, but we can’t. This is something that’s going to hang over you for the rest of your life sweetie.”

“The ruling was overturned.”

“Yes, which was good-”

“You know why it was overturned?”

“Well, yes, it’s because the witness lied, so-”

“It’s because I did nothing wrong and was falsely accused.”

His mother turned her head away and Akira had to fight to keep the growing, familiar rage down.

“What were we supposed to do?” She replied, her voice soft and weak. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel guilty or even more mad. He took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. Beating back the fury in himself enough to remain civil.

“You could have had my back.”

“We-”

“You could have believed me.”

“Sweetie!”

“But it’s fine.”

He tried not to laugh at the look of shock on her face. He continued.

“Moving away was hard, at first, but it was the best thing you two have ever done for me.” He tore up some weeds, tossing them aside. “I’ve found people, a lot of people, who would never abandon me, who would believe me and have my back even if it put them in a tough spot or potentially get them in trouble.” He made eye contact with his mother. “I have people in my life who I trust and who trust me.” He was going to leave it at that but, “I didn’t even  _ want _ to come back here.”

He couldn’t quite stamp out that bitterness he had nursed for the better part of last year.

His mother blinked rapidly, her eyelashes fluttering as her throat constricted, a strangled “I see” making its way out. 

Wait, shit, was she going to cry? She ducked her head away so her hair hid her face but that didn’t hide the sound of sniffling.

Whatever rage and bitterness was fueling him before was extinguished by the equally unwanted and uncomfortable feeling of guilt. What should he do here? Pat her on the back and say sorry? No, he wasn’t going to apologize for being mad. Should he leave? Is pretending not to notice the right thing to do? How ‘bout-

“I’m glad.” she said. Her voice wobbled a bit. “I’m glad you found people like that a-and I’m sorry.”

…

“I think that’s enough gardening for now, I’ve kept you long enough sweetie.” She gathered up her gardening tools, even taking the shears out of Akira’s hands, and got up. “I’ll take care of these, y-you go enjoy the rest of your sunday, okay.”

“Mom.”

“I’m fine.” She said way too fast. She seemed to realize it because she broke out into a fit of giggles. At least that sounded genuine.

“Really sweetie, go, your mother has...some things to think about.”

“...Okay.” He got up, taking off his gloves and handing it to her. “...see you at dinner.”

***

Well today was kind of a bust. After the talk with his mom, Akira was emotionally tapped out. He’d always been on the receiving end of people’s tirades and emotional epiphanies but he’d never got to be the one to let go. It was exhausting.

He spent the rest of his afternoon walking around town, visiting shops that used to welcome him with  _ genuine _ smiles. Oh well, at least they didn’t refuse him business now. He scoured his town top to bottom for things he thought his friends would like. Akira wasn’t sure why they wanted souvenirs from his hometown but he didn’t see any reason not to oblige. After an hour of searching and arms heavy with gifts, he took a break in his town’s only park. Completely comadeering an entire bench for himself and waited. Morgana joined him sometime later, meowing happily as Akira whipped out some convenience store sushi he got and they both enjoyed their meal in peace.

He was reading through the various flood of messages he was getting from his other confidants. Mishima wanted to meet up, eager to introduce him to his girlfriend he’s been dating since last week. Hifumi was eager to face him for another shogi match, apparently she had some new techniques she wanted to show off. Shinya had a new game he wanted to play with Akira. Iwai asked him to drop by Untouchables while he was in town, and everybody else held similar sentiments. Honestly, finding time to hang out with everybody during his two week stay was going to be challenging enough and then life had to throw another ordeal his way to eat up even  _ more _ of his time.

It’s fine, he’ll make it work.

His phone buzzed, it was another message. He clicked it open without reading who the sender was.

**Maruki:** Hello Kurusu-kun, it’s been awhile

**Maruki:** I know this is sudden

**Maruki:** Can I talk to you?

**Maruki:** As in call, that is.

Akira hesitated. He stretched a hand and patted Morgana’s head, the not-cat-now-sorta-cat purred, too busy eating sushi to care. He opened up his contacts and tapped on Maruki’s number with his other hand. Bringing the ringing phone up to his ear, he waited.

It rang twice before he picked up.

“O-oh Kurusu-kun, I wasn’t expecting a call so quickly.”

“What’s up Maruki?”

Morgana perked up at the name. His eyes were wide and his tongue stuck out blep-style. It was adorable.

“Well, this is going to sound a little strange but out of anybody I know you and your friends are the only ones who would have even an inkling of an idea on how to fix this. I’m afraid even with my knowledge of cognitive pscience, I’m at a lost at what to do.”

Akira stopped mid-boop. He wasn’t talking about  _ that _ was he?

“You see, I’ve been having these strange...episodes where I’m seemingly spirited away to an alternate space. The first time I was there, someone spoke of a game. Now it’s barely been two days since this started but,” Maruki sighed. “I feel like it would be wise to end this sooner rather than later. So...well, do you have any ideas about this? I’ll even take your best guess. Talking to you has always helped me clear my mind. Maybe we can figure this out?”

It was Akira’s turn to sigh. Running a hand through his curls, he slumped forward onto the bench.

“Your persona’s name was Adam Kadman and it was Azathoth before that, right?” He didn’t really need to ask, how could he forget?

“Yes? Is that important?”

“Very, and not to disappoint, but we don’t have much info on that place either.”

“So you too Kurusu-kun?”

“All the phantom thieves really, you haven't connected with your persona have you?”

“N-no can’t say I have.”

Great, another one to the  _ search and rescue _ list.

“You said connected? How do I do that?”

It didn’t take long to bring Maruki up to date on everything, there wasn’t very much to update him on in the first place. Damn, it only made it clearer how little they actually knew about all of this. Being toyed with sucked.

“I see,” Maruki said. “I guess it’s fortunate that I work as a cab driver, the rear view mirror is right there. Although, I’m not sure what I’d do besides that...hmm.”

“You worried?”

“Oh! No, I’m sure everything will work out,” Maruki chuckled. “But to be sure, if I do connect with my persona I’m to give him these phone numbers?”

“Yep, the first one’s Diego’s number, Morgana’s persona, and the second one’s Arsène’s.”

“He’s yours right?”

“Yes, Diego’s in that world’s version of California. while Arsène is in Paris. So depending where your persona is, have them call the number of who’s ever closer.”

“Understood. My, you kids sure have everything planned out.”

Not really, but it’s nice that he thinks so.

“Thank you, Kurusu-kun. I’m sorry I have to rely so heavily on you, uh, especially after...all the trouble I caused you and your friends.”

Akira felt himself smile, then he felt it turn sharp.

“You can thank me in the form of snacks. Sweet, salty, you know I’m not picky.”

Maruki laughed.

“Certainly. Well, I’ll be in touch. Thanks again.”

After Maruki hung up, Akira shoved his phone into his pocket and started to gather all of his bags. That’s when he noticed a conspicuous lack of cat on the bench. Looking around, he finally spotted his roommate at the top of a metal slide, staring down. When did he get there?

“Hey Morgana!”

He looked up and wasted no time jumping down the slide’s ladder. Akira couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that he didn’t try sliding down but the thought was quickly replaced when he noticed how happy Morgana looked.

“What’s up?”

Morgana jumped back up on the bench and then made another leap up onto Akira’s shoulder. While having claws dig into him would never feel nice, he was more than a little use to it at this point.

“He found them!”

Akira’s eyes widened.

“All of them?”

Morgana deflated a bit and shook his head.

“No, but he’s found three and I told him about Maruki and guess what, He already knows where his persona is already!”

“Who else did he find?”

“Captain Kidd, Goemon, and Necronomicon. Oh, and he wanted me to tell you that the point of origin of each story seems to correlate with everybody so maybe the rest of our world’s information may be useful too.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, he said he’s already booked a flight to meet up with one of them to help get them to connect.”

Akira went through his memories, scouring through all the info he’d gather earlier that day.

“He’s meeting up with Necronomicon?”

“Woah, how’d you know?”

“They’re author was an american who lived in Rhode Island. Figures Diego would go to them first.”

“I sometimes forget how crazy smart you can be Joker.”

“Well of course, I’ve achieved Erudite after all.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. Let’s go home.”

***

Dinner was quieter than normal, with his mother refusing to look in Akira’s direction and his father giving suspicious looks at the both of them. Thankfully, somehow, through some miracle, he remembered at the last minute about his assignment. He had to dig it out from underneath his persona research but he finished it minutes before midnight. Sleep took him before the clock struck twelve.

The next morning he awoke to his phone buzzing. For a brief second, he thought about rolling over and going back to sleep. Morgana could wake him up if he slept in too late. But then he recognized the buzzing, it meant he got a text. Without opening his eyes, he groped around his night stand for his phone, taking several tries to find it before bringing it over his face. Bracing himself for the glare, he squinted his eyes open to look at his screen. It took him several tries to fully comprehend what he was reading.

**Futaba:** Hey Dweebs guess what!

**Futaba:** I’m in!!!! >:3

**Makoto:** It would seem I am too. I’ve already given Johanna directions on where to go. It took a little convincing but I think she’ll follow through.

**Futaba:** Yeah yeah same!

**Futaba:** Apparently Diego is already on his way

**Futaba:** He and Nomi are gonna meet up

**Sumire:** Congratulations you guys! 

**Sumire:** That’s two more Connected!

**Ryuji:** Who’s Nomi?

**Futaba:** Necronomicon

**Futaba:** She’s got some issues with her name n she wasn’t really crazy about the nickname Necro

**Makoto:** I would think not

**Ryuji:** idk sounds sick to me

**Akira:** So she’s not a book?

**Futaba:** wtf XD

**Futaba:** no

**Futaba:** she’s a cute girl like me

**Akira:** And also

**Akira:** y’all are gross being up this early

**Akira:** It’s 6:00

**Akira:** the hell you doing blowing up my phone?

**Ryuji:** lol sorry dude

**Makoto:** apologies

**Sumire:** I completely forgot, sorry!

**Futaba:** lol country Akira is best Akira

He let his phone drop onto his chest and closed his eyes. The buzzing muffled against his body. He has a few more hours before he needs to be up. No harm in spending that time in bed.

The Phantom Thieves won’t lose. No matter the odds. They'll figure out this new game and _win_. No problem.

It’s with that self assurance that Akira fell back to sleep. His dreams tinged in blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legit forgot I gave Akira an assignment to do, why'd I do that? He's got enough bullshit going on in his life. Why'd I give him homework!?
> 
> Also, the next five chapters are outlined, I'm gonna try and promise all y'all that the next chapter will be out sometime next week and not almost a MONTH later!


	5. To Light a Fire Under...

Arsène regretted not having a better phone plan. If he’d known that he’d one day be having a four way conference call from two separate countries and three different cities with more being added on in the foreseeable future, he would have coughed up the money then to save him the trouble now. What’s worse, he couldn’t get a word in edgewise thanks to the newest additions.

“Are you serious, are ya sure it’s him? You don’t mean some different Azathoth?” Said one of their newest additions. She had started out the conversation soft-spoken and inquisitive. Listening quietly as Diego and him explained what’s going on and their plan was. Which was fine by him but the moment Diego started going through the list of people of who they still needed to help Connect, that facade went out the window. 

“No, it’s a pretty unique name and from the information that Akira had gathered, the man who authored your stories in his world also had the last name Lovecraft. So it makes sense that your cousin would be who we need.”

“But not one hundred percent true fact though? There’s room for error?”

“Considering that we know, you, Necronomicon Lovecraft,-”

“I said call me Nomi!”

“Are one hundred percent a part of this game, it’s reasonable to assume that your cousin is part of this too.”

Arsène looked over at his bedroom clock.

“Nooooooo!”

They’ve been arguing about this for the past five minutes.

“Dammit! Fine! I’ll call him up and somehow convince him to hang out tomorrow or whatever. But no promises! We’re not exactly close.”

“Really, Who could have guessed?” Arsène said, massaging his temple. Between the yelling and the english, he was getting a headache.

“Shut up.” Nomi mumbled.

“I’m glad that’s settled.” said the other newbie to the group, obviously a mature woman judging by her voice. A hint of a german accent leaking into her english as she spoke. “I’ve already made arrangements to arrive in Paris today. My...well, Ms. Makoto has made it clear that we’re facing something unknown and potentially dangerous and I agree with her that meeting up with all of you is a wise idea.”

“While that makes things easier on me, why Paris?”

“If our suspicions are correct then most of our other players should be somewhere in france as well. If nothing else, we definitely know that Mr. Goemon is there.”

Arsène nodded. Not only were they lucky enough that Goemon was in Paris but also that Arsène had already gathered plenty of information on him so arranging a “clandestine” meeting shouldn’t be too hard. Nevermind why he initially gathered the information for anyways.

“So when can I expect you? I would be happy meet up and escort you-”

“No need, I’ve already made arrangements.”

Ouch.

“However, I do think we should meet up at some point to work out a plan to locate and connect the rest of our players.”

“Where do you want to meet up?”

“I was thinking of the Eiffel Tower.”

Arsène rolled his eyes. Of course she would,  _ everybody _ wanted to see the Eiffel Tower.

“Sure, when?”

“Does 3 o'clock work?”

“Works for me.”

“Cool, sounds like you guys have a plan. I guess I’m stuck here waiting on Diego then. When will you land?”

“My flight’s in twenty minutes so...expect me to arrive in Rhode Island around eleven.”

“I should probably get some sleep then, ugh, who knew a quick bathroom break would lead to a three hour exposition dump. Man, it’s so late!” To punctuate her point, she let out a loud yawn. “Better get what little sleep I can, you get some too, Diego. Planes aren’t comfy but I’m gonna need you if we’re really going to try and get my dumb cousin to do anything that’s good for him.”

“Won’t be a problem, see you in eight hours,” Diego said, Nomi yawned out a goodbye and then left the call. Leaving just the three of them. “ and thanks again Ms. Anglicus, for dropping everything to contact us and meet up with Arsène. This is all a little crazy and your cooperation is...well, it makes things easier.”

Arsène couldn’t help but feel like that was a dig on him.

“Of course and I suppose the next time we have another call like this it will be to welcome the next player?”

“Hopefully! Well, I gotta get going now. Bye.”

“I must be going as well, see you later today Mr. Lupin.”

“You can just call me Arsène.”

“Noted. Goodbye.”

He let out a sigh as he dropped his phone onto his bed. He craned his neck again to see what the time was and groaned. He had an hour before he had to be ready to go to his dad’s stupid conferance. Which would be more hours spent listening to be talk and argue while he tried his damndest to seem invested.

Just another day.

If nothing else, it’ll give him a chance to think over his next  _ job _ . He finally nailed down the what and now all that’s left is to figure out the how. Specifically how he’s going to top pulling off a heist underneath the police’s collective noses. While a fun challenge, it didn’t go quite as smoothly as he’d had liked it. There were other factors behind all that but still. No point in doing the same stunt twice in a row. A part of his appeal is that the Shadow thief did things differently from heist to heist. The public sure appreciated it and he’d hate to disappoint.

Head buzzing with ideas, he went through the motions of a man with nothing better to do than to dress up and play nice with his father and his business partners.

***

“Hmm.” Monsieur Lupin settled himself into one of the cushy chairs lining the long table in the conference room. Nodding in what Arsène would assume is approval. They haven’t said a thing to one another past morning pleasantries and the usual  _ How to Act in Front of Important People and not Embarrass your Father  _ checklist. Arsène had once hoped that once he’d memorized the list that his father would give up on having him go through the tedious routine but to this day he still finds himself demonstrating that, yes, he does know how to sit up straight and stay absolutely still, yes, he knows the proper way to respectfully address someone, and yes, he knows that eye rolling and talking back are not allowed whatsoever. Honestly, one mistake and Arsène was still paying for it. 

It wasn’t like he  _ meant _ to say what he did outloud.

Taking a seat next to his father, he still was in the dark about what this conference was going to be about. Which was odd, usually his father made sure he was at least aware of the topic of discussion. Now that he thought about it, this meeting was quite hastily thrown together to begin with, Monsieur Lupin was a planner and rarely did things on a whim. What could have happened to inspire such behaviour?

“You never mentioned what this was all about, care to enlighten me?”

“The others will be here shortly. We’ll find out when they get here.”

Oh?

“You don’t know either?”

Monsieur Lupin sighed and leaned back into his seat. He wasn’t frowning but from the stiff shoulders and almost glare that he was shooting at the door, Arsène could easily surmise that his father was displeased by this fact. And yet he still went through with showing up.

“But someone asked you to pick a venue for this though?”

“Yes.”

“...Do you at least know who called for this conference?”

“I do, actually. It was Madame de Winter.”

Arsène felt his confusion twist his face. Monsieur Lupin quirked his lips up in a smirk.

“I know, I held similar sentiments.”

“What did she say to convince you to set this up?”

His father straightened in his seat and adjusted his gold rimmed glasses before looking over at his son.

“Business, of course.”

Arsène waited for further explanation and huffed when he got none.

“Pertaining to what exactly?”

“I may be old but I haven’t gone senile just yet. I’ve already told you I do not know.”

“But this was so last minute, what kind of  _ business  _ would make you act on so little information?”

Monsieur Lupin smiled at his son. If Arsène had to describe, he’d almost call it fond.

“I suppose this is proof that you do pay attention to how I handle transactions, at least.” He let his smile drop. “While the information was sparse, I was more interested in...her tone, I suppose.”

“Her tone?”

“You can convey many things without having to put it into words.”

Arsène rolled his eyes.

“Can you at least tell me what her  _ tone _ was?”

His father paused, watching the door. There were noises coming from the otherside. They were here. Before the door could be opened, he heard his father say:

“Amused.”

***

The conference was small, only ten were present, including Arsène and his father. He knew all of them by name and a few even on a personal level and ,even more amusing, the majority were previous marks. 

Lady Dubois was his third target. He had stolen an old book from her, well-worn and oft written in. It didn’t take long for her to notice it was missing but to make sure no one could accuse her of misplacing it, Arsène had made sure to make it very clear it was taken. He had spent a lot of time deciding on how to phrase his letter of declaration. Should he hand write it? Should he be to the point or clever? Red ink or black? In the end he went simple and to the point, with a slight teasing edge to it. He had stolen from her and he wanted her to know without a doubt that he did. She may have been a woman pushing into her fifties but even she lost composure when she found out that the Shadow Thief had stolen her diary.

Monsieur Travers was his seventh target. It took a bit to find out what to take from him, all he seemed to care about was his stocks and money. But everyone had something tangible they didn't want stolen. Travers’ was a pocket watch, old, and precious. In hindsight, Arsène should have keyed in on that fact, considering that Travers never left home without it. Stealing that was less a grand affair and more a test of stealth. It was the first time Arsène stole during the daytime and the third time he’d don a disguise to do it. Although Travers’ reaction when he finally realized his loss made up for the lack of a spectacle. Even now, he looked sullen without his trinket.

Monsieur Carmel had the pleasure of being Arsène’s first target. Now that was a sloppy affair but he had made it work out for him in the end. After all, if Carmel hadn’t walked in on him during his heist then he would have never gotten his name. It was really more an instinct then it was actual cleverness, but with the help of Joker, Arsène had melded into the darkness. Disappearing right before Carmel’s eyes alongside his precious item. Joker had told him that he was lucky, and in short, that he needed to improve his lockpicking if he didn’t want to waste half an hour trying to pry open a desk drawer. 

It only took Arsène thirty seconds to do that now.

There were others of course, even his most recent target, Beaumont, was here. Who was still visibly upset about the theft a few nights ago. Arsène had to beat down the urge to smile.

The rest of the people in the conference room who weren’t marks of the Shadow Thief were only separated from that fate by time. Such as Perrault, who was in attendance, only had days before Arsène would pull his heist on him and Madam de Winter, the woman who called for this meeting, would someday find herself a victim of his as well.

But right now he was Arsène Lupin, son of Monsieur Maurice Lupin, heir to Lupin inc. and simple observer of today's proceedings. He’s here to just listen and watch, not engage. How boring.

“Is everyone present and accounted for?” Monsieur Carmel asked. 

“I’m afraid that not everyone I had called for was available to attend.” Madam de Winter loosened her purple and magenta striped scarf from around her neck and brushed her blonde hair aside as she did. “But that just means I am that much more grateful that you all had made the time to come despite your busy schedules, especially you, Monsieur Lupin, you were even gracious enough to set up a place to hold this meeting. Thank you” Madam de Winter spoke clearly and her voice had a weight and dignity to it that was not held back by how light and sweet her voice sounded. She was always like that though, her deferential and polite demeanor could not hide the straight back or steely gaze she possessed. She may try to hide it but she was a woman of power and cunning, no amount of sugar could coat that.

“Of course, Madame. Although, my cooperation was not inspired by goodwill or the desire to please you.”

She raised an eyebrow, her small mouth curving into a smile.

“Simply put, I’m curious. Why have you called for this meeting?”

Madame de Winter opened her mouth to speak but then everyone’s attention was drawn to the door opening. It was a young woman who entered and to Arsène’s delight he recognized her. It was the ribbon girl from a few days ago.

“I apologize for interrupting.” She said, her face flushing slightly from all the stares she earned. Oddly enough, it was Perrault who answered her.

“We haven't started yet.You’re fine.”

She nodded curtly before rushing herself to an open seat. A seat next to Perrault. Now what’s that about?

“Oh?” Madame de Winter said, giving Ribbon girl a sweet smile. “And you are?”

“My niece.” Perrault said before she had a chance to open her mouth. He leaned forward and laced his fingers together. “Pay her no mind and please continue.”

Madame de Winter cocked an eyebrow but did not press any further. Even though Arsène wished she had. That little cutie was Perrault’s niece? Although why did he care, he never talked to her before, they barely had anything that would count as an encounter. But he couldn’t mistake that very distinct feeling of disappointment taking root within him. She didn’t seem to have the same attitude that her uncle had. She held herself too differently, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be upset if something were to happen to her shitty uncle. Besides, what did he really know about her? Nothing. She was a pretty girl related to a horrible man that ridiculed Arsène when he was younger. That was about it. Even so, he couldn’t help but think that she looked ...unwell. It wasn’t like she could sag into her seat with the current company, but Arsène recognized the tell-tale sign of exhaustion in her slumped shoulders and her noiseless exhale as she leaned in the cushions, her eyes slightly red from lack of sleep. Odd. It had been only a few days since he’d last seen her and she was perfectly well then, what happened to her to make her this way? Was it Perrault? Or is it something else? Maybe she was simply overworking herself and there was no sinister reason behind her condition. Maybe-

Arsène bit back a hiss of pain as the heel of a boot dug into his foot. As casually as he could, he looked at the perpetrator. Once he met his father’s disapproving gaze, the pressure on his foot lifted. That’s when he noticed that the others were talking. Discussions were already underway.

There are nicer ways to get someone’s attention, Pére. 

Letting his bitterness simmer, he turned his attention back to the meeting.

“It is truly puzzling, his methods, his choice of targets another, but his prizes are completely nonsensical.” Perrault said.

“And what do you hope to accomplish here? Not even the police are in a position to apprehend him.” Lady Dubois added, she was addressing Madame de Winter. What are they even talking about?

“To help put this puzzle together, of course.” She said, clearly amused.

“How? The police already determined that these crimes are personal. Anybody could piece that together.”

Madame de Winter brought a dainty finger up to tap her chin, putting on an exaggerated thinking face. “Monsieur Perrault called his prizes nonsensical but any of you who were robbed call them that? Were they truly random acts of theft?”

Monsieur Lupin let out a deep sigh. “Whoever they are, this thief is nothing more than a thrill seeker. A petty burglar. Nothing more.”

Oh.

“Weren’t they deeply personal items though?”

They were talking about...

“Items that caused you all emotional and personal distress to be parted from? This thief is no ordinary miscreant. Their goal isn’t to just steal from you all, they wanted to  _ hurt _ you.”

Him.

He leaned back into his seat, making sure that he was out of his father’s view, and schooled his face into one of passive disinterest. All the while, pride swelled in his chest and the sound of cackling resounded in his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was his or Joker’s.

“But why they took what they did isn’t what I wanted to share with you all today.”

“It’s not?” someone said, Arsène wasn’t paying attention to who.

“No. Instead, I believe I know how this Shadow Thief commits his crimes without being caught.”

He had to fight to keep his expression from cracking. As if she really knew.

“And when did you become such a clever detective?” Monsieur Lupin asked in a tone that Arsène had thought was reserved only for him.

“Mock me all you like but I know I’m onto something here and I had thought that you all would like to hear it. Since most of you have been their victim and the remaining of us are most likely somewhere on their radar.”

“Then please,” his father said with a wave of his hand, “enlighten us Madame.”

She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, which were watching all of them with intensity.

“Do any of you know what a Persona is?”

The room was silent and Arsène found himself dumbfounded.

She knows?

Madame de Winter’s eyes darted over her audience. When she passed over him, he used every ounce of control and cool he and Joker possessed and willed himself to appear just as bewildered and unimpressed as the rest. He didn’t relax when she looked away from him. Finally, she sighed and pouted.

“No one then?”

“I’m afraid not.” Monsieur Beaumont said. “Care to explain?”

“Well I suppose I have to.” She sighed again and tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. The motion almost distracted Arsène from noticing her eyes flicking over to her left. He followed her gaze to see…

Perrault’s niece.

The poor girl looked like she had been frozen in place with how rigid she was, her blood drain cheeks alarming pale. The poor girl was no actor.

Even though it wasn’t the nicest thought, he was sure with how suspicious her reaction was that she would be sufficiently distracting enough to Madame de Winter that any slip ups on Arsène’s part would be overlooked.

“Now,” her eyes flicked away, but then something seemed to have caught her attention, “where to begin?” 

She was looking at him. But why? No. Not at him. At least, not his face. Her gaze was lower. He looked down and immediately cursed to himself. As casually as possible, he relaxed his hands and released the death grip he had on his armrests.

She looked away, smiling. “I suppose I should explain what a Persona is first.”

Madame de Winter must have a persona of her own. That would be the only way she even knew of their existence. However, that alone wouldn’t explain how she would know so much. Apparently, a facet of her company devotes funds into research about the phenomenon known as Personas and it has been a pet project of hers for years. Everyone in the conference room listened to her, a few interjecting here and there to ask for clarifications or explanations. Arsène was hoping for more skepticism, these were logical businessmen and women, how in the world did de Winter expect to convince them that one could manifest a spirit to fight for them? But they  _ were _ listening, serious and attentive. She finished her piece and sat waiting for her words to fully sink in. She looked so serene and sure of herself. 

This was ludacris. 

What did she hope to accomplish? Why did she care about this at all? Does she want to capture the Shadow Thief? Why? Did he give himself away? Was she on to him? 

Why did the universe decide to throw so much shit at him this week!?

“That,” Monsieur Lupin said, lacing his fingers together in front of him and drawing everybody’s attention. “was a fantastical tale you just told.”

“Fantastical, yes, tale, not so.” She replied easily.

“It is a little hard to swallow,” Monsieur Beaumont said. “Without proof of course.”

“Proof? What proof? This is nonsense!” Lady Dubois said.

“You certainly had us going.” Monsieur Travers nodded.

“An utter waste of time!” Perrault sneered.

Arsène relaxed. They didn’t believe her. He had worried for nothing. Good.

“I think…” Monsieur Carmel spoke softly, eyes casted towards the table as he continued. “I would like to see your researcher’s reports as well.”

Madame de Winter nodded. “I’ll gladly give you copies and for the rest of you,” her serene smile turned devious. “I’ll just as gladly give you proof.”

Before anybody could say anything, she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath in and spoke as she let it out.

“Persona.”

In a burst of heatless flames, a figure came to be just above Madame de Winter. It was a woman and she hovered in the air as dignified and serenely as her user. She had on a long, dark coat lined with fur that reached all the way to the ground and her legs were crossed, showing off her knee high heeled boots. She had on a wide brimmed black hat that was positioned just so that Arsène couldn’t see her face. She had long, curly hair that spilled over her shoulders and seemed to bounce in the air.

“This is my persona,” Madame de Winter looked positively smug. “Her name is Utsukushi no Sanzoku, or, as she is more commonly known, the Lovely Bandit.” she then snapped her fingers and her persona, the Lovely Bandit, disappeared. “Was that sufficient proof?”

Several people nodded.

“So, the Shadow thief,” Monsieur Beaumont managed to croak out. “Has one of...those?”

“Certainly.”

“And...what do you plan to do to catch them?”

“Well, trap them of course. Everyone one has either already been their target or will soon be. I wish to get an idea of their methods before devising a suitable trap.”

“I see.”

“Why do you want them?” Monsieur Perrault asked, watching Madame de Winter with narrow eyes. She sighed.

“As you can guess, research into personas...isn’t very easy. We have found that not everybody can manifest one and we would like a larger sample size to find commonalities between persona users. Is it the person or is the method of awakening more important? At the very least, getting the Shadow thief’s personal account will do us wonders.”

“And what will you do with this research, where do you gain to profit from this and more importantly, where do we gain to profit from helping you?”

She smiled sweetly at Perrault.

“I’ll be more than happy to send all of you our reports on our current progress and even our projected goals for all of it later. Can I take your question to mean that you are at least interested in my proposal?”

“That’s an understatement.” Lady Dubois said, several others murmured in agreement.

“That’s good to hear. Well, I have shared everything I wished to at this point in time. If you all are fine with it, what say we end this meeting now?”

“I can agree with that.” Monsieur Lupin said. “You have certainly...opened our eyes to quite a few things today. I for one, need time to mull it all over. When will we like to arrange the next meeting?”

“We don’t need to decide that now.” Monsieur Travers shook his head. “I am for ending things here.”

“Very well. Until next time.”

The room filled with the noise of rolling chairs and stilted goodbyes. Arsène watched Madame de Winter rise from her seat and say her goodbyes as well. Millions of ideas raced through his head, actions he could take, scenarios he could create to...what? Would it be a bad thing to approach her and reveal himself? Probably as the Shadow Thief, but maybe not as a simple persona user. She seemed to know a lot, maybe she’d have some idea as to what this game he’s involved in is about? Is she friend or foe? Can he trust her?

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw Perrault’s niece leaving the room, her face stiff and confused.

He didn’t think about it.

He followed her.

***

When thought caught up to Arsène, he had already walked through several hallways, watched the Perrault girl take an elevator, ran down a few flights of stairs and was now waiting in the lobby room, counting down each ding as the elevator got closer and closer to the main floor.

How was he going to approach this? Going up to her and saying  _ Hey, I don’t know you but I think you have a Persona, wanna talk?  _ Seemed too...creepy. He had to be smooth and non-threatening about this. Perhaps making sure the first thing she sees isn’t him staring at her as soon as the elevator doors open would be a good start. To distract himself, he scanned the lobby. There were only a few mingling about. Someone was at the coffee table making themselves an instant cup, another was an old man reading through a newspaper, and the last one was a young woman who looked like she just came off the runway and she was looking boredly at the elevators. Speaking of which.

Ding!

Out stepped the Perrault girl. She looked calmer than before, her fingers fiddling with her pink broach. Arsène hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should call out or not. Then she lifted her head and met his eyes. She looked shocked for a second but that melted away into a pleased smile. She began walking towards him.

Well then. This certainly got a whole lot easier.

“I don’t think I ever introduced myself.” She said up at him, this close, he could see a faint dusting of freckles across her nose. “I saw you from the last meeting but didn’t get a chance to, sorry about that.”

He gave her his best smile. “No worries. Although, I’ve been absolutely distracted ever since. It’s frustrating not knowing the name of a beauty such as yourself.”

She flushed but her smile didn’t waver.

“I bet you use that line on all the ladies.”

“Nonsense.” Most of them. “Although, I think I have half of the puzzle. Do you share the Perrault name?”

“Hmm-hmm, and am I correct to assume that you’re Lupin’s son?”

“You would be.”

She giggled.

“This is a terrible introduction.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad.”

“No, for real this time,” she brushed aside a lock of hair. “ Hello, my name’s Ella Perrault, it’s nice to meet you.”

Arsène blinked then smiled.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Arsène Lupin”

“So now that we know each other, would you like to go out for lunch Arsène?”

“Damn,” he cocked an eyebrow, “We just met and you’re already asking me out on a date?”

“Is that a no?”

He took his phone out to check the time. 1:15. He had time.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

She beamed. “I know the perfect place!”

She grabbed him and pulled him outside the hotel. While the prospect of having lunch with a very cute girl was one he wouldn’t turn down, it  _ was _ going to make bringing up personas a tad awkward. But that wasn’t the only thing on his mind. He had found another one of their players and she still wasn’t connected yet.

How the hell was he going to approach this?

“Do you mind a walk? It’s not far, I promise.”

“Lead the way.” He said, shifting her grip on his arm so that their elbows were hooked together. She blushed but it did little to dampen her smile. They walked in amicable silence for a short while, long enough for Arsène to get comfortable and tempt fate to throw  _ something _ else to make his life as miserable as possible.

**Arsène**

His jaw twitched. What was it now?

**I thought you should know, we’re being followed**

Instinctively, he tilted his head to look behind himself. Not too obvious, just enough to see out the corner of his eye.

_ Show me _

The world was washed away into darkness, with buildings and people outlined in blue. All except for one. The one stalking them was outlined in a vibrant yellow. The silhouette suggested a female, he could make out very little else. But that was fine. The world returned to normal and keeping his eyes on where the silhouette was, he got a good look at his stalker.

She was wearing high heeled boots, a designer faux leather jacket and her long black hair was worn in a high ponytail that cascaded down in waves. Arsène was almost convinced he recognized her from somewhere. She wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of a magazine but he was pretty sure that wasn’t right. He returned his gaze forward. Whoever she was, she picked a poor target to tail or she would have if Arsène wasn’t currently on a date. He couldn’t exactly race across rooftops and alleyways with Ella in tow. Instead, he picked up his pace, Ella flashed him a confused look.

“Something wrong?”

Yes. Their stalker had picked up her pace as well.

“Not at all, I guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”

She giggled.

“The restaurant isn’t going anywhere.”

“That may be so but,” out of the corner of his eye, he caught the dark haired woman taking a turn down an alleyway. Now where was she going? “I guess I’m also eager to be spending my time with someone as lovely as you. I’m a little nervous.”

She snorted, actually snorted. “I don’t believe you, but thanks anyways.”

“Now I’m hurt, I do mean it.”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep a grin off her face.

“Hey now don’t be like that.”

“I’m starting to think you’re just a shameless flirt.”

“Again, with wounding me. I assure you that-”

He was grabbed. Sharp nails dug into his arm like the fangs of a beast. He hissed out in pain.

“Darling, there you are!” the nails dug deeper, the voice of his assailant loud and ominously cheery. He met her eyes. It was the stalker. Her red lips stretched in a grimace as she glared up at him. “I want a word with you, if that’s alright with you sweetie~!”

“Um,” Ella let Arsène go and stepped away. “Who are you?”

Stalker chick laughed.

“Oh me? Well I’m his girlfriend, can’t you tell? Now can you give us a moment, I really want to talk to him, alone.”

_ That _ was her angle? Talk about cheesy, but Arsène found himself nervous all the same. If all that was at stake was his honor and a date, that would be one thing, but the fact that this could potentially make helping Ella believe him about the Game and connecting would just be inconvenient. Although, she would have no reason to believe him, she barely knew him. He tried to rip his arm out of the woman’s grasp, gritting his teeth as she held firm. Ella frowned, looking between the two of them.

“I don’t believe you.”

Oh? He couldn’t help but be a little surprised.

“What?” the woman asked.

“I don’t believe you, now let go of him or else I’ll be forced to make you.”

The stalker stared at Ella.

“Damn, it’s scary how effective it is.” She gave him a glare filled with venom. “Have you no shame?”

“...What?”

“Perv!”

Arsène was very confused and a little insulted.

“Well, let’s see how you like it!” She tugged him forcibly, throwing him into an alleyway. It vaguely occurred to him that that’s probably where she popped out from, taking the winding way to cut them off, but his musings were cut short as he heard her hiss out a familiar word.

“Persona!”

The narrow alleyway was engulfed in blue flames as a majestic figure arose from the stalker. The blue fire turned a vivid red as it twirled and wrapped around the hovering woman. It solidified into a kimono, the edges frayed with flames. The persona’s platinum blonde hair was done in a traditional bun, with golden hair pieces adorned with roses keeping it up. Her face was pale and doll-like, her eyes closed as she cradled a plain looking temari ball. The woman pointed a viciously sharp finger at him.

“Marin Karin!”

The persona opened her eyes and smiled at him. He felt the attack wash over him, the effects burgeoning for a moment before washing away. It didn’t take effect. He let out a sigh of relief. She growled.

“Fine! How ‘bout this! Agidyne!”

The persona reacted immediately, her face contorted in anguish as she let out a silent scream. She raised the temari ball above her head and it bursted into white hot flames within her hands. She chucked it at him.

There was nowhere to hide, the alleyway too narrow to side-step, Arsène gritted his teeth and summoned the chains. They burst forth from his back and shot up above him to attach themselves to the top of the buildings, they began to reel him upwards just before the temari ball hit the ground in an explosive burst of heat. He always hated using the chains, it made him feel like a ragdoll being picked up and tossed around by its pull string. But they sure were useful.

The blaze below him was searing, the bottom of his shoes so hot, he was sure the soles were melting. But the spell went away as quickly as it appeared. As he fell back down to the ground, he could see no indication that the alleyway had been engulfed in an inferno. He took a stance and faced his stalker. She was fuming.

“How!”

He smirked.

“Joker,” his persona appeared above him, “Evil smile!”

She tried to fight it, Arsène couldn’t help but admire her valiant effort, but the effects were making themselves clear. Her legs began to quake and her lips quivered. Arsène ran a hand through his hair, tidying it up after the brief ordeal.

“Now that is that, I think I’ll be going now.” He moved forward, she stepped out of his way, nearly stumbling into a wall. As he passed her, her face was twisted in fear, eyes downcast as she trembled. Arsène tried really hard not to feel like shit.

It wasn’t working.

“S-screw y-you!” She screamed, startling Arsène, and then she launched herself forward, grabbing his arm in her vice grip. He would have admired her bravery, Joker’s ailments were nasty, but it was quickly pushed aside when he watched in horror as her persona lifted up another flaming temari ball.

“Agidyne!”

Arsène now had an accurate idea of what hell would feel like. It hurt. A lot. As soon as the blaze was finished, she let go of him and he dropped to his knees. It wasn’t like his clothes were burned away or that he now sported third degree burns, or even a simple sunburn, but it sure  _ felt _ like he did. He struggled to breath through the agony.

“H-ha ha, n-not so cocky now are y-you.” She stuttered out, still shaking from fear but unphased by her persona’s attack.

He wheezed.

“N-now, you are gonna t-tell me w-where you keep your stash, Shad-”

“Diarahan!”

The effect was immediate and very, very welcomed. Arsène’s skin no longer felt like it was bubbling in some places and just dead in others. He could think straight again and breath unhindered. That’s how he finally noticed that Ella had joined them in the narrow space. At some point, he was dragged away from his assailant far enough away for Ella to stand between them. While the taller woman’s tremors were due to, by all accounts, magically induced fear, Ella’s trembling knees was genuine. But still, she stood her ground and glared at the fire wielder.

“Don’t you dare think I’ll just stand by and watch you hurt someone!” she yelled, “if you have a problem with him, then discuss it like the adults you are and not with  _ this _ !”

“He started it!” the woman pointed with an accusing finger, “not only did he screw up my plans but he also humiliated me!”

“Humiliated you?” Ella grimaced, “how?”

She flushed.

“How else! With his stupid persona, that pervy jerk!”

He ran through his memory, when had he ever used his persona on anyone, much less in a pervy way-

Oh.

His face began to burn from something other than phantom heat, he thought those claws were familiar.

“E-even so, is that really any reason to go attacking people!” Ella defended.

“Aaagh, whatever, this is stupid.” She raised a hand up in the air, glaring at the both of them. “Onibi-Hime, burn them all!”

Arsène and Ella tensed as they watched the flames roar to life, it wasn’t as concentrated as an agidyne and not nearly as hot, but it was going to definitely hit them both. He gritted his teeth as he waited for the unpleasant burn to hit him for a second time when…

The persona disappeared and her flames with her. They all stood stunned.

“No,” she gasped, Ella also seemed to have paled further. “Not again!”

The world went grey.

Once again, the only sources of color came from the only humans around and the blue flames that surrounded Arsène. Unlike last time, he wasn’t distracted by the opposing sensations he had felt, which left him uncomfortable and disoriented, which gave him the clarity of mind to fully comprehend several facts.

These two were definitely players, there were no reflective surfaces anywhere, and there was something  _ wrong _ with them both.

The thick air around them wavered around the women. Ella was covering her ears and whining, eyes rolling to the back of her head. The dark haired woman was shivering, her teeth chattering as tears began to well up in her eyes and despite the fact that everything felt normal to Arsène, he saw her fingers and cheeks began to turn an alarming shade of blue. Besides him, Ella curled up on the ground, squeezing her eyes shut as she crushed her ears beneath her hands.

This is what happens to the players who weren’t connected yet? He...he had to do something, anything!

“Do any of you have a mirror, or maybe your phone?” he cried out. He knelt next to Ella. Maybe the phone screen would be enough of a mirror to work and if that didn’t then maybe the camera function? He saw Ella’s coat pocket and his hand shot forward without thinking. He had to do something. As soon as his hand brushed the cloth of her coat, the world burst back into color.

He swore he heard the sound of laughter. Bone chilling and cruel.

He grabbed Ella by the shoulders. She didn’t respond, or even so much as moved. She remained crouched, eyes squeezed shut, her breath shallow and weak. He looked over at the dark haired woman, she too, seemed unaware that they were back in the real world. She stood shivering, eyes watery and glazed over in pain. He turned his attention back to Ella. Hooking his hands under her armpits, he dragged her back up on her feet. She wobbled a bit but Arsène steadied her. Maneuvering her to the wall, he leaned her against it. She was still out of it. He grimaced. He turned towards the woman, approaching her cautiously.

“Hey,” he said softly, waving a hand in front of her dazed eyes. “You okay?”

No response. Damn. He took her hand and was a little surprised to find that they felt warm.

He took out his phone, unlocking it and dialing one of his newest numbers. It rang for less than three seconds before it was picked up.

“Hey, it’s me.” he sighed. “Change of plans, I can’t meet up at the tower. Instead, I’m going to need you to come to me. I need help.”

He paused, listening to her very reasonable question.

“Well, in short, I’ve found two more players.” He looked over the two women, still dazed and wracked with fits of phantom pain. Arsène grimaced.

He hoped finding the rest will be as easy and he hoped, for their sake, they found them fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly done within a week but I shall put forth the excuse that this chapter was longer than the last.
> 
> And more frustrating to write.
> 
> On a fun note, we got to see more PT!Personas!!! Honestly one of the funnest parts about this fic was figuring out the PT's designs and move sets. UGH, I can't wait til we get to the fighting, but alas, everybody needs to meet up first.
> 
> No promises on when the next chapter will be out but the aim is end of August/start of September


	6. So, A Journalist, a Librarian, and a Single Dad walk into a parking lot...

"Where is he?" Nomi thought to herself for the fifth time in a row. She looked around, the driveway she parked in was busy with both pedestrians and cars alike. She drummed her fingers across the steering wheel and fiddled with her glasses with the other.

She hated airports.

She would never be here, especially on a work week, much less for a stranger. Yet here she was, waiting in a crowded airport driveway. Picking up a man she only had a single phone call with. If she read this scenario in one of her books she’d be quick to rip the decision to shreds as utter idiocy...and yet, here she was. She rested her head against her steering wheel and closed her eyes.

What was she doing?

**Did my words seem false to you?**

Nomi stiffened.

“No.” she mumbled, but her forehead scrunched up in frustration. “But she wasn’t really  _ you _ , though.”

**She is as much me as I am you, and as much you as I am her**

Now that was a riddle. She remembered the day before, which was more like early this morning, where she met the young girl Futaba. She had gotten up to go to the bathroom when the world shifted on her again. A miserable start to the day. But this time, instead of her body experiencing the intensely uncomfortable and often painful sensation the grey world put her through she felt nothing and then there was color. One would think the blue flames swallowing her would be the first thing she’d noticed but they were overshadowed by the unexpected vision in her bathroom mirror. Instead of seeing a thin woman staring bleary eyed and not looking at all ready to be under any kind of light, a teenage girl with long orange dyed hair and big round glasses stared back at her. There was a few seconds between them before the girl gave a crooked grin and called her name. 

And that was that.

“You two don’t look anything alike.” she mumbled. “I certainly don’t know why her persona looked like _that_.”

**I believe you were a ship**

“ _ I _ was a ship. A UFO...with tentacles!” She made sure to wave her arms to accentuate how ridiculous it was.

**I’m sure she found my appearance just as...disconcerting**

“Oh, uh, I’m just exaggerating. I’m sure she’s not freaking out or anything.”

**You sound so sincere**

Nomi huffed. Over the past three years her persona had grown more and more sassier although she never quite reached the same level of energy her… human self had. Futaba Sakura was a storm in of herself. It was hard to see her as the same thing as-

She shrieked as her phone rang inside her pocket, she dug it out and read the caller ID. She accepted the call with a flick of her thumb.

“Ms. Nomi?”

“This is her.”

“Great, I’m by the third exit. If it helps, I have a yellow duffle bag on me.”

Nomi searched the doors again, reading the numbers above them until she found three. It was a little ahead of her but not far enough for her to not be able to see a burly man with a yellow duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He was looking out over the driveway. She felt a flash of panic hit her. What was she doing?

“Ms. Nomi? Where are you? Should I meet you?”

She took a deep breath and released it along with her budding anxiety.

“Yeah, there are several cars blocking me from getting closer to you. Look to your left, I’m in the burgundy car.”

He swiveled his head to the left, looking down the line of cars. She waved and he stilled, before she could feel foolish he cracked a smile and waved back.

“I’ll be right over.”

And that was that.

***

How did he get roped into this? How did he let her convince him to say yes in the first place? Why did he even take Nomi’s call? At four in the morning of all times, why did he even agree to anything? All she said was _Az, I swear, it’s imperative that we meet up! No wiggling out of this or excuses! Twelve O’clock today, meet me at my place._ Of course when he, gently, reminded her that this week was his custody week, she, not so gently, accused him of making excuses. Which was rude and untrue. They eventually agreed to meet up at a park waaaay out of either of their normal routes and when he wanted to know _why_ after months of mutual familial silence that she wanted to hang out today of all days, she got huffy and told him to just wait and she’ll explain it all. And as if the universe was aiming to make him even more miserable he had another one of his...attacks and right as he was making breakfast for Niel and him. Dropped an entire bowl of cereal all over the floor and broke the bowl. He had already sworn Niel to secrecy not to tell his mother about these attacks and being the incredibly smart and understanding kid he was, he even was sweet enough to make sure Azathoth was alright and…

A father really shouldn’t let his six year old look after him, no matter how smart and mature that little six year old might be. Azathoth rubbed his face with his hand, trying to massage the exhaustion from his eyes. The park bench wasn’t by any means comfortable but he was lucky to find an open spot at all. Besides, from where he sat, he had a good view of the parking lot, his cousin should be showing up anytime now. He wasn’t sure what to expect from this encounter but he knew he wasn’t ready for it. Damn, he just wanted to be home right now.

There was a shriek followed by squeaky yells. Azathoth whipped his head up to see a group of children, older ones, probably ten or twelve, arguing and shoving one another. They glared at one another for a few seconds before a snotty looking boy said something that was too quiet to reach Azathoth but whatever it was it caused the opposing children to gasp. Then one of them threw a punch.

Should he stop it? He’s an adult, he probably should try to, but then again, he’s not any of those kids’ father. It would be weird if he got involved. But should he really keep his head down?

He felt someone sit besides him, looking to his right he saw a six year old boy with almost unnaturally dark hair and keen amber eyes. Sometimes, Azathoth thought they looked closer to gold. The little boy swung his legs as he watched the fight. After a few seconds he looked up at him from the corner of his eye and smirked. Niel’s mother thought it made him look devious, Azathoth thought it was just plain cute.

_ He probably didn’t want to get involved _ Azathoth thought to himself  _ and went to the place he thought was safest. _

What a sweet boy.

He ruffled Niel’s hair and sighed.

“Sorry Kiddo, this place was kinda a bust.”

Niel batted his hand away and shook his head. “No, I had fun.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well still, once cousin Necro gets here, I’ll  _ make _ her get you something nice. For all the trouble we went through to get here and all that.”

“Aren’t we supposed to call her Nomi?”

“When she can hear you, yes.”

Father and son shared a conspiratorial smile. It was stupid, but Azathoth loved these moments regardless.

It was then ruined by his phone buzzing. With a grimace, he pulled it out and read the text.

“Oh finally, she’s here.”

He straightened himself and looked towards the parking lot. He found her quickly enough, she was thin and gangly, with short bobbed hair and an outfit befitting any librarian. It didn’t take long for her to spot him either. She didn’t look happy per se but she also didn’t look displeased to see him. Odd. She turned back to her car and seemed to be...talking to someone? Odder. Then the passenger door opened and a stocky man stepped out. She pointed at Azathoth and the stranger looked at him.

...What?

The stranger waved.

What?

And they both began to walk towards Azathoth.

What!

“Stay here,” Azathoth pushed himself off from the bench, shooting Niel a smile. “I’m gonna go talk to cousin Nomi and her friend.”

The little boy pouted but nodded. Azathoth ruffled his hair again before meeting his cousin at the edge of the park.

“Soooo,” he said, crossing his arms as the three of them stopped, the sound of children fighting in the background. “Who’s this?”

The stranger held out his hand, “My name is Diego Vega, I’m a journalist from California.”

Azathoth stared at him.

“California?”

Nomi groaned.

“He just said that Az.”  
“Well excuse me that I think it strange that some journalist from _California_ would cross the country to come here of all places.” Azathoth narrowed his eyes at the burly man. “Why are you here exactly? Nomi mentioned literally nothing when she asked to meet.”

“Well, we were hoping you’d agree to meet in private.” Vega shrugged, “we have a lot to go over and I’ve found being comfortable when we do makes the process a lot easier.”

“Go over?” He tensed. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand a lot Az and yet, somehow, you’ve made it this far in life. Just go with it!” Nomi snapped, having the gall to place her hand on her hips and look up at him like he just broke an expensive glass vase while trying to clean it and hid the evidence in her room for their grandparents to find later. 

He only did that once, years ago, she really needed to learn to let go.

“I’m not the stupid one here!” he hissed. “I don’t know this guy!”

“He just introduced himself!”

“He could be lying!”  
“You dolt! Why would he do that!”  
“For whatever scheme you two cooked up!”

“What scheme?” she shrieked, waving her arms like noodles. She looked ridiculous.

“I don’t know!”

“That’s the running theme in your life Az and that’s why I’m telling you to shut up and listen to me for once!”

“For once? When do you ever shut up?”

“Um, Ms. Nomi, Mr. Lovecraft, can we-”

“You may seem sweet to anybody else but you’re a nightmare Necro!”

“Me! I’m the only good-”

“There you go again, you self-righteous-”  
“Self-righte- Wait! Did you just call me Necro!”

“Yes I di-” Azathoth yelped as his wrist was caught in a vice grip and his arm was nearly yanked out of it’s socket as Diego dragged both him and Nomi towards the parking lot. Man, those muscles aren't for show.

“You two,” the shorter man hissed between clenched teeth, “are making a scene.”

Nomi’s face turned a brilliant shade of red as Azathoth craned his head to look back at the playground. Sure enough, everyone was either looking at them or trying very hard not to, even the kid brawl had stopped. He spotted Niel, he had left the bench and was following them to the parking lot, the worried expression that he was making, which had no right being on a six year’s face, made Azathoth’s heart wrench. 

What in the world was he being dragged into?

***

Life was funny and unpredictable. Diego had learned early on to adapt and grow with it instead of opposing it, he thought he was pretty good at that. Learning that your true self can manifest in the form of creatures derived from the mass subconscious, odd but not a big deal. Learning his own self took the form of a cat from a children’s story, fine. Figuring out that he’s not the only one in the world with access to this power and that it’s being actively abused, not surprising at all. Somewhere along the line, he found himself exposing the scums of the earth and shutting down his fair share of corrupt campaigns and businesses.

He always wanted to be a hero as a kid and, amazingly, life had obliged him. Magic powers and all.

And yet...

“ _ Please _ ,” he hissed out between clenched teeth, “reconsider.”

“What is there to reconsider?” Azathoth, a skittish man who undermined his impressive height by slouching, was trying to hide from prying eyes. A futile feat. The only people more curious than journalists or detectives were Housewives.

“Everything.” Nomi sneered. If he had known how abrasive she was going to be he would have asked her to wait in the car.

“I assure you, modern medicine can’t help you and I promise you, they won’t go away on their own. We’ve experienced this and have found a way to stop them.”

“And in exchange for telling me how to stop them,” Azathoth glowered down at Diego, “I just have to fly all the way to  _ France _ with you both.”

“No,” Diego said just as Nomi groaned out a yes, “We’ll tell you, it’s only right, but I think you’ll find that it’s in your best interest to come with us. If, for whatever reason you still find that you don’t want to, we can’t force you.”

“It’s not just cuz I don’t want to, although it is that, but…” the tall man glanced to the side. Diego followed his gaze and saw a small boy, no older than seven if he had to guess, peeking out from behind a red sedan. The boy realized he was being watched and ducked behind the car, his sneakers still in view from behind it. Rookie mistake.

"You have responsibilities." He hadn't considered this possibility. living the life he had, Diego was used to uprooting himself and going wherever he was needed. Important events were happening, mundane things like family or jobs that expected you to come in nine to five were nothing but obstacles. Still, not everybody felt that way and so he had to work around that.

"I recall you mentioning this was your custody week? Couldn't you cut it short and have his mother take him?"

Azathoth bristled and glared down at Diego.

"No." he gritted out.

Short and sweet, with no room for argument. Okay. Different tactic.

"What if you left him with-"

"Not going to happen."

"Ugh, Az! We're trying to help you, just give us a chance!" Nomi yelled up at her cousin, drawing his attention to her instead. They began to snap at one another again. All they needed to do was get Azathoth connected and then he’ll understand the importance of their request. But his attitude and antagonistic relationship with Nomi spoke ill for their future, any hope Diego had of gaining a  _ reasonable _ teammate was viciously dashed. Arsène was okay but frustratingly obstinate, he worked with enough people to recognize that he was the type that liked to "Work alone". Johana seemed promising but too entrenched in normal life to be useful quite yet. 

Diego paused. He felt a presence, familiar and insistent, make itself known to him. It didn't speak but he knew what it wanted to say regardless.

**To your left, he's coming closer**

He looked to his left, making sure to be inconspicuous and sure enough, the little boy had crawled closer. He was looking at them with narrowed eyes, suspicion plain on his young face.

**Can use**

That's what the wave of determination and confidence meant. It took a little practice to figure out what his persona was saying but he supposed if anyone can wordlessly understand it, it would make sense he could.

It was befuddling that its living counterpart could talk though. It, Morgana, had tried to explain why and how but it made little sense to him. Cognition? Metaverse? Answers that only made more questions. Not that he didn't want to kn-

A wave of impatience and intense annoyance washed over Diego.

**Pay attention**

Right, the boy. He can be used.

"Mr. Lovecraft," Diego cut into the familial argument once more, using as much authority and bass into his voice he could manage. It worked, both cousins looked towards him, eyes wide. "We have one last ploy to convince you, if it doesn't, then we will go and leave you to your fate."

"Wait, I thought you would tell me how to get rid of these attacks even if I refused."

"Of course, but do you honestly think this is it? Aren't you curious why these attacks started in the first place? Who started them? Or if our solution is even a permanent one? If you refuse to come with us, there will be no way you will find any answers to these questions."

Nomi looked uncomfortable and only grew more so when Azathoth scoffed.

"So what, the attacks will go away. I'll deal with whatever comes next."

"Even if it means your death?"

"My death?" The taller man shrieked, "what are you talki-"

"Dad!"

Hook, line, and sinker

The little boy had forgone any pretense of stealth and ran straight up to his dad. Tiny arms wrapped around thin legs, amber eyes wide and teary as he stared up at Azathoth.

"You're dying!"

As realization dawned on Azathoth's face, Diego felt his chest burn with satisfaction. His persona or his own feelings, he wasn't sure.

"N-no, I'm not. They're ly-"

"Cousin Nomi," the little boy looked away from his father, "is it true?"

She shuffled in place before looking down at him and nodding. 

_ A decent liar _ Diego thought  _ of course, is it really a lie if it could happen _ ?

"We're not sure what these...attacks are, if we can help each other figure this out then maybe we can stop it from happening or getting worse. The solution we have is a band-aid at best. We need something permanent. You've seen how bad they get, you must have."

The boy nodded, hands squeezing Azathoth's leg tighter.

"Now see here-" Azathoth nearly roared, actually straightening his back.

"Dad," the boy snapped, "you're sick, you need help! Mom can look after me, it's  _ fine _ ." he emphasized the last word with an intensity that Diego didn't know a six year could manage. Azathoth looked like he wanted to say more but crumpled under his son's gaze. His shoulders bent downward, his back slouching once more.

"Niel, It's nothing, really."

Nobody believed him.

The boy, Niel, swiveled his head to look at Diego.

"Can you give him the medicine to make him better now, the band-aid solution?"

One obstacle down.

"Of course," Diego nodded. He faced Azathoth. "The next time another attack happens, you need to look at a reflective surface and call out your persona's name. That'll connect you and will stop any further attacks."

Azathoth and Niel gave him identical looks of bewilderment.

"Trust me, it works. If you haven't noticed, you lose contact with your persona right before an attack hap-"

"What are you talking about?" Azathoth asked. Nomi groaned.

"Don't play dumb," she said with a scowl, "we know you have one. You wouldn't be having these attacks if you didn't. You have a persona, you can't hide it."

Azathoth snarled.

"Was this just all a joke then? The hell!"

It was Diego and Nomi's turn to share a bewildered look. A cool sense of dread began to pool in Diego's stomach. He met Azathoth's increasingly reddening face.

"Kibou, come forth."

He didn't need to see to know what happened. A burst of flame, a feline figure stepping out in a burst of wind, its gait haughty and lithe. Unsettlingly blue eyes meeting all with an unwavering gaze.

All three Lovecrafts stared at him wide eyed and slack jawed. He could have sworn he heard Nomi whisper out a coo and a "kitty".

He suppressed a sigh.

"W-what is that?" Azathoth said, pointing a shaky finger at the ethereal cat.

"My persona."

"You're…"

That pool of dread turned into icy understanding.

"Azathoth," Diego said evenly, " you don't have a persona do you."

Azathoth shook his head dumbly, eyes never leaving Kibou.

Life was funny and unpredictable. Diego thought he was fairly adaptable and clever enough to deal with whatever it would throw at him and yet…

He should have realized that he’d get hit with life’s punchline sooner or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'm so gonna make my self-imposed deadline on time, you'll see!
> 
> My Computer: Hey, wanna see a trick?
> 
> My Computer: *dies*
> 
> Me: D:>
> 
> The majority of this chapter was typed on my phone and so was a third of the next one. Ugh, but it is done!


	7. Normalcy is No More

Three days, it's been three days since these...hallucinations? Abductions? Full bodied migraines? 

Whatever they were, William knew that since they started his life's been shit! With a groan, he lifted his head off of his table, just in time for the waitress to come by and fill up his third cup of coffee. He rubbed the exhaustion from his face, fingers tickling as they brushed against his stubble. 

_ Should probably shaved that off _ he thought, _ but first work.  _ He stared down at the computer before him. He had thought that going through the loads of emails and shipping logs would be a smart thing to do. Y'know, weed them down before he had to go back to work next week. That was before he caught...whatever the hell he caught. Sarah had thought it was fitting he'd get sick on their first vacation in years. He thought it was bullshit but speaking of her. He looked across the restaurant they were dining at and smiled as he watched his wife marvel at the baked goods section they had up at the counter. She was older than him by a few years but the way her smile brightened her face as she wavered between the cheesecake and the chocolate chunk cookies would make anyone think otherwise.

**You gonna sit doe eyed all day**

William cringed.

**Just sayin', I just think we got more important business to do than sit around and drink tea all day**

He frowned and made a point to pick up his cup and sip loudly. The person, the being that existed in his mind, exuded annoyance and amusement in equal measure.

**Fine, fine, just tryin to look out for ya**

He wasn't sold on that. The being appeared the first time he found himself in the grey world. It showed up in a blaze of blue flames. A giant club slung over its shoulder and cloth wrapped around its waist that was yellow and blacked striped. William had nearly yelped when he'd seen the two horns growing from its forehead and really did when he finally realized that the crackling sound he was hearing was from the creature in front of him. Electricty crawled over its body like spastic snakes without searing an ounce of its flesh. It had claimed that they were one and the same and in the moment, William believed it. But now…

He set his cup down and thumbed through a few more emails. Determined to ignore whatever signs of unsought insanity he may or may not be displaying and enjoy the rest of his botched vacation. Sarah joined him shortly afterwards, carrying an armful of sugared delights. She snatched his phone away, stuffing it in her purse and before he could complain, she placed a scone in his empty hand.

“Tell me what you think.” She said through a mouthful of blueberry muffin, spraying little crumbs in front of her.

“I think you’re a thief.” He said, bringing the scone up to his mouth and taking a large bite. She snorted, spraying more muffin crumbs. He raised an eyebrow. “And a mess.”

She blushed and looked around and once she was sure no one was looking, she brushed the crumbs off their table and gave William a look, daring him to say something.

“Sarah,” he raised an eyebrow at her, “how uncivilized of you.”

She smacked him upside his head and in retaliation he stole three muffins. She gasped and lunged to grab them back but he raised his prize up and over his head, far from her greedy little fingers. Sarah hesitated, locking eyes with him for a moment just before she lunged across the table towards him. The legs scraped against the floor, screeching unpleasantly. William and Sarah both cringed and quickly went back to being as inconspicuous as possible. The people around them murmured in confusion, the closest to the pair shot them a nasty look. But no reprimand came their way. William looked over at his wife, she met his gaze and held it. She began to giggle, he soon followed.

“So,” she said with a wide smile, “what’s tomorrow’s plan?”

“I’unno.” William took a large bite out of his pastry. Thumbing through his phone and checking a few more emails.

“I hear there’s a farmer’s market in the afternoon, a public play , or, if none of that sounds like fun then a nice stroll through the older parts of town perhaps.”

William snorted.

"I knew you'd think it was fun." she said gleefully.

"And when does this day of ours start?"

"Hmm," Sarah smirked, "seven am."

"What! Aren't we on vacation?"

"I thought so, although…" she snatched his phone and waved it. "I could be wrong."

"Fine, i get it." he raised his hands in defeat. "So what's left on today's agenda?"

"There's this shop that sells some beautiful dresses and before you object and roll your eyes out of their sockets there are stores that you'll like too, I checked."

"I'm trusting you, now, can I have my phone back?"

She eyed him.

"I promise not to do work on it or check for new emails." he groaned out "I'll just drown in 'em when I get back to work."

She gave him his phone back with a smile.

**Cute, but should ya really be botherin' with this?**

William gave his wife a strained smile.

***

He should be in bed, or at the very least, still in the hotel. Instead he was out in the middle of the night wondering the town of london. The streets around him weren't empty, he was pretty confident that the couple he passed by were out for a stroll and the group of friends whose breath reeked of booze were pleasant and amiable.

The weather was warm but not muggy, the sky was covered in clouds which left lamplight the only defender against the darkness. Wind whistled through the streets, carrying the scent of rain and the promise of a storm. It was perfect.

Even his persona seemed pleased.

**Ten minutes ‘til it starts**

“You can tell?”

**Can’t you feel it?**

“Feel what?”

**Hold on**

Then he felt it. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and the scent of ozone grew stronger. The air around him popped and thrummed with electricity but it was nothing in comparison to the building tension rolling towards the city. It felt....

**Amazin' right?**

The rolling storm rumbled. William smiled. Despite all the weirdness, he supposed that there were some small benefits to it all. Taking another deep breath, he let himself enjoy the growing tension of the oncoming storm. 

Then he felt empty.

"Rai-Oni?"

No answer. No connection to the storm above or the hint of power that came from having a persona. Just emptiness. William whipped his head around, finding only himself and one other stranger walking along the street. Absolutely no sign of his persona. 

Can't any of this weird shit be consistent?!

As if in answer, the world went black and white.

“Of course,” William yelled. The deceptively thick air didn’t muffle his voice, instead it echoed in the empty space. “How else would my night end!”

**William**

Oh, it seemed like he decided to come back. How nice of him. William raked a hand through his hair and tried to keep his voice level.

“What!”

His bark echoed back at him, making him cringe. He tried again.

“What?”

The horned creature wreathed in electricity manifested in front of him. He floated in the air with his legs crossed in a sitting position, he swung his club, pointing at something in the distance. William followed its direction and stiffened.

In the distance, about thirty yards away, was a tall man in a light summer coat. His hair was worn long and in a ponytail, his face was nothing but angles and sharp points, and he was staring directly at William.

**We got ourselves a tag-a-long**

It took a second for William to form words again but when he did, it came out as a bellow.

“Who the hell are you!”

The stranger started but oddly he turned to look at the store window next to him. He frowned, nodded, and then broke out into a run.

“What th- hey you, wait!” William ran after him. The first person he met in this strange place that wasn’t a disembodied voice or strange creature of his subconscious, and he runs. He gritted his teeth and watched the man take a left turn around a corner. Crap!

He covered the thirty yards that originally separated him and for whatever reason, he glanced at the shop window as he passed.

“Hey wai-!”

William skidded to a halt, outside of the window’s view. What was that? Heart thumping, he walked back in front of the window. Instead of his reflection there was a blonde boy with a crooked grin on his face.

“Sweet, it really is you,” he was sitting down, legs crossed. A controller laid in his lap. “About damn time!”

William stared down at the boy, mind buzzing with a thousand questions. But out of all of them, out of all his reasonable and far more insightful queries he could make, the question that spilled out of his mouth was beyond stupid.

“Rai-Oni, that you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was...a pain.
> 
> Nothing wanted to come together, the first part alone went through several re-writes
> 
> In the end, I just wanted to post this dang chapter and move on. Even if it's shorter than intended.


	8. Enemy Spotted

Akira yawned and re-read his text. The harsh glare from his phone burned his eyes, only more pronounced by how dark his own room was. At the corner of his phone flashed the time, telling Akira that it was well past midnight. Yet, despite the late hour, Ryuji had managed to connect with his persona.

Which was great and more than enough reason to forgive his best bro for sending him twenty consecutive texts so late.

What wasn't great, his persona had spotted a stranger in the other world.

Were they a friend? An enemy? Some poor fool who got dragged into this mess by accident? Or were they another player?

Akira groaned and rubbed his face. Setting his phone back onto his nightstand.

Just another problem for the Phantom Thieves to tackle. They can do this.

….But why? Why do they have to deal with the world's bullshit? Aren't there other people out there who could deal with it all and let them take a breather

_ But if they insist on it then why not give them something to remember? _

He smirked

_ Let them know how much of a mistake it was to drag us into their petty games _

Akira sat up, finding it very hard to disagree. He felt all of his frustrations and helplessness merge into a familiar, intoxicating concoction inside himself. Anger. He was always careful when and especially where he let his volatile emotion out. It’s served him well. Akira could feel Arsène smirking.

_ Any doubts or fears will burn away in the face of our righteous wrath _

Akira didn’t disagree and found his person’s impassioned words encouraging. Whoever was pulling these strings,  _ will _ be found out and they  _ will _ pay for messing with the Phantom Thieves.

What right do they have-!

“Akira?”

He froze.

“Akira, are you okay?”

He looked down, it was Morgana. He had woken up and was now looking at him with his big blue eyes.

“Yeah.” he said through clenched teeth.

Wait, when did that happen?

He forced his jaw to relax and flashed Morgana a comforting smile.

“Uh...” Morgana’s ears flatten.

Something’s wrong. He snuck a quick look at his mirror and had to suppress a cringe. He dropped the smile and with a bit of effort, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Forcing his body to relax, recalling all his time spent at the temple.

Breath in, exhale, breath in, exhale, breath in… and exhale.

He opened his eyes. Morgana was standing on his hind legs, his front paws kneading into Akira’s chest.

“Akira, what’s wrong?”

He booped Morgana’s nose.

“Nothing.” he smiled at him.

“I don’t believe you.” His feline companion swatted at his finger, somehow a frown visible on his muzzle. Akira sighed, searching for the best way to calm his friend down.

Oh, that’s right, he didn’t have any Magicians on him now, well that’s fine. He should still have Ishtar somewhere, or maybe someone of the Empress arcana would do better…

Akira searched. Then searched again and found nothing. His other personas weren’t there.

How did he forget?

He let himself fall back, arms splayed as he fought down the onset hollowness he felt. Morgana let out a mew of concern. 

Oh right. He was supposed to be reassuring him. Drawing upon Arsène, he spat out the first thing that came to mind.

“I visited the Velvet room.”

Morgana’s ears perked up and he clamored up onto Akira’s chest. His big blue eyes staring down at Akira.

“You did? What did Master Igor and Lady Lavenza say?” he tilted his fuzzy head. “When did you visit? I was with you all day.”

“This morning. After going back to sleep.”

“And you waited until  _ now _ to tell me?” Morgana yowled.

Akira shrugged, feeling a tad sheepish. His feline friend scoffed.

“Figures. So out with it, what did they say?”

***

Akira woke up with a start. The first thing he saw was the familiar blue ceiling and the not so soothing sound of chains rattling somewhere in the distance.

He should have expected this.

He pushed himself up and immediately his pajamas erupted into blue flames. Tugging at his gloves, he reveled in the familiar feel of it all. Even hearing the dull click of his heels hitting the stone floor sent a thrill through him. It’s only been a few months since everything but  _ damn _ .

After leaving his former cell, he was surprised to see an empty desk. He narrowed his eyes and looked over his surroundings, nothing seemed out of place or different.

Well then.

The room was cast in blue, which honestly didn’t change too much from what it was before, but this time he could see…

Footprints, small and a piercing yellow. They started at his cell door and made a trail to and around the desk. He followed the only clue he had and walked around the barren desk, looking at the empty cells all around him. The dainty footprints led straight ahead into another cell, the trail ending just in front of its entryway. He deactivated his Third eye and planted himself at the door, peering into the nearly identical cell room.

“Lavenza? Igor?”

With nothing better to do, he entered the cell.

He cringed as a wave of chill washed over him, causing him to shiver. Akira flexed his hands and watched as his breath puffed out in front of him. It was almost as bad as getting hit with a bufu spell. Everything stung and he could feel his fingers going numb despite the gloves. He very nearly backed out of the cell, until he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Fighting back full body shivers, he turned to look to find a butterfly fluttering innocently in the chilled air. It circled around his head a few times before flying straight into the cell wall. At its touch, a door manifested. It was a french glass door, ornate in design and the windows iced over with blue frost, making them too opaque to see through. The butterfly hovered above the door's handle.

Catching on, he placed his hand down, his crimson gloves a sharp contrast to everything around him. The butterfly delicately landed onto the back of his hand and a familiar voice echoed within his mind.

_Hello my Trickster, I’m sure you have many questions but first, I have something to show you._ _Use your skills and don’t be seen or heard. There is very little my Master and I can do for you if you are caught._

Akira grimaced and nodded.

_ Very good, just follow the sound of our voices and be careful! _

And with that, the butterfly shattered into shards of light. Letting out a puff of air, Akira gripped the door handle and pushed it open a sliver. Peering through the crack, he couldn’t make out anything but thick darkness. With a smirk, he slithered through the doorway and activated his third eye.

The first thing he noticed was he was no longer cold anymore. Which was a relief. The second thing he noticed was how little there was in the dark space. There was a path, it only extended out a few feet ahead of him, but everything else was empty. Not a structure, light, or notable landmark in sight. The third thing he noticed were the voices.

They were far away and muffled but still distinct enough that he could recognize Igor’s voice from amongst them. But which direction…?

He stepped towards the edge of the path, only for it to extend further out into nothing. Odd, but not the weirdest thing he’s come across.

_ This is a place of thought and potential. _

Arsène spoke clearly, his voice seemingly to come from behind Akira instead of from inside him. He turned around and sure enough, a hazy outline of the great thief broke the monotony of the place. His persona was standing tall and gazing upwards, the hazy outline gaining more definition the longer Akira looked at him.

_ Anything you think of, will be _

Akira turned back to the path ahead.

“...So if I think my goal is far away, it is?” Akira focused on the voices. They were still distant...but that wasn’t because they were far away, it was because they were in another room. One he was standing right outside of.

There was no noise or even any gradual point where it started. One moment there was nothing in front of Akira and within a blink of an eye, a wall of stone stood before him. An outline of a door, hazy and indefinate, stood before Akira. It took only a second for it to evaporate and thirty feet above for a window with a sliver thin edge to appear. A convieniant hook placed just above the newly formed entryway.

Arsene chuckled.

Perfect

Akira agreed. He pulled out his grappling hook and aimed.

He felt the familiar tug. On his arm as he was lifted off the ground and ripped through the air. He landed smoothly onto the window's ledge and only took a second for him to enter the room and hide himself within the shadows cast throughout it.

The room was hazy and rather plain looking. The only thing of note was that everything was cast in a blue light.

_ Bland, we can do better _

Akira smirked and a heartbeat later the haze grew denser until defined shapes formed from it; the light became more concentrated, shifting into a softer yellow light; the silence shattered as a soft jazz melody began to play from some indistinct source. It didn’t take long for everything to settle and reveal a parlour room. Antique chairs strewn about as a record player sat in the center. The rug and decor had no distinct design but they all left the impression that Akira had seen them before or at the very least, took inspiration from something he has seen before. Satisfied, Akira left the shadows and strode across the room. Stopping only to conjure up some double doors for him to leave.

Upon entering the next room, he was quicker to shape things as he saw fit. The haze around morphed to form walls, but he didn’t put as much thought into the decorations and as such, misshapen armor stood at attention and indistinguishable paintings adorned the walls. But all that was secondary anyways, the voices were clearer now.

He sprinted down the hall, his footsteps never making a sound against the plush carpet, until he reached another set of double doors. The dark wood doing little in keeping the conversation within a secret. On instinct, he brought out a lockpick and then he stopped and huffed at himself.

The door gave a soft click.

_ Certainly not as challenging or as fun but the dangerous part isn’t past us yet, young thief _

As an answer, Akira opened the door and slipped inside.

Blinding, that was the first thing Akira thought after entering the room. It was blindingly bright.

There was no soft yellow light to illuminate or the eerie blue that Akira was expecting. Instead, a bright, searing white light penetrated the room.

He needed a place to hide.

He dove to the side. Thoughts of shadows, dark corners, and things out of sight racing through his head. Like that, the piercing light he saw through his eyelids faded and the feeling of being in the center of a searchlight vanished. Akira opened his eyes and could finally take in the room.

They were in a sunroom, the space outside the glass dome a white expanse while the interior was spartan. Three chairs, a table and three very otherworldly occupants.

It was very odd to see Igor sitting in a wicker style chair, a sharp contrast to the dark wood set up he had in the Velvet room. Lavenza was sitting down as well, her legs dangled well above the ground, the compendium she carried around placed on her lap. Both looked...grim. Finally, Akira took in the third occupant of the room.

It was,  _ he _ was reclining in his own chair, legs crossed and a smile on his face. Well, Akira was pretty sure he was smiling. It was hard to say, the man in the chair was a haze. One moment he appeared hulking and intimidating and the next slight and willowy. His face was a confusing mesh of features, never settling for long on a singular one. Surroundings established, he took stock of where he was hiding and nearly gave himself away with a gasp. He hadn’t dove behind or beneath anything and he wasn’t hidden safe within a nook filled with shadows. He somehow attached himself to the glass wall, not as himself but as a shadowed silhouette. Several things ran through his mind but the most pressing of them was that he was still far too exposed. It wouldn’t take a genius to turn their heads and notice him just standing around like an idiot.

_ Seems like someone already has _

Akira immediately went into a crouch, ready to run. Then he caught her eye. Lavenza was staring at him, from the corner of her eye. After a heartbeat, she flicked her eyes down to the ground. Akira followed her gaze. The room really had nothing in it, not a potted plant, rug, or pillar, but it did have some chairs that casted wonderful shadows. He nodded. She gave him a small smile before returning to the conversation at hand.

“I assure you, this breaks no rules.”

“So you say,” Igor responded, his unsettlingly high voice still jarring to hear. “But I fail to see the necessity.”

“True, there is very little necessity behind this game,” the amalgamation smiled. “But there is nothing wrong with it either, just a bit of fun.”

“Master, may I speak?” Lavenza sat up straighter.

“Proceed.”

The little girl whipped her head, her yellow eyes blazing.

“You are asking us to stand by as you meddle with things outside your domain and allow you to pull in persona users from another world and put them in danger just for your amusement?” She kept her face neutral but the fire in her voice made her opinion clear.

“Is that the main issue you have? Well, then let me assuage them.” he sat up and stared down at Lavenza. A chill swept through the room. “Nothing is outside  _ my _ domain, for I am all and all is me.”

“Arrogance blinds you to your own limitations!”

“Arrogance, you say?” He laughed, “What is arrogant about speaking the truth?”

“I have found that many lack the skill to see it within themselves and it is a common enough ailment in humans, it is just a shame it is in abundance in one such as yourself.”

The man bristled and Akira felt himself smile, the small attendant was holding her own and giving him an excellent opportunity to get closer.

He knelt down and...how the hell was he supposed to do this?

_ Quickly _

“Hm.” True but unhelpful. Guess he was just going to have to run for it, he could do that, without being noticed. In a black coat in a white room...definitely.

He booked it. He expected to peel away from the wall, become solid again. Instead he found himself sliding across the floor, heading straight towards Lavenza’s chair. Hitting the shadows beneath her chair felt like smacking face first into a wall.

A world of cognition and perception, where the occupant determines the laws and here he is imagining shadows that could break his nose. Shaking it off, he turned his attention back to the argument.

“I  _ still _ don’t see why you must involve Persona users from a different world when you can find plenty in yours.”

“Our worlds are not as dissimilar as you insist they are, young attendant. We are merely on the other side of the mirror, reflections of one another, inverted. One would not exist without the other. I do not aim to harm this connection or change it in any way.”

“Just taking advantage of it?”

“See, you get it, now just-.”

“And yet,” Igor cut through, silencing the Stranger effortlessly. “I cannot help but suspect something foul.”

The Stranger stiffened in his seat, the atmosphere growing chiller.

And Akira couldn’t see any of it.

Taking advantage of his new form, he tested the edges of the shadow he was currently using and found that as soon as he breached it a tugging sensation took hold. Sometimes in multiple directions and others pulled strongly in just one. Assessing each direction, he finally settled on one and left the shadow. Again, he found himself sliding, but now prepared for it, he slithered his easy towards the small table between everybody.The glass surface would have made an abysmal hiding spot on any other occasion but with the piercing light everywhere and his shadowed self, every tiny shadow and dark post cast by the small piece of furniture was as effectives anany nook and cranny Akira has hidden in during his career. It also gave him a chance to really take in everything.

The stranger’s features still shifted like a flesh toned kaleidoscope but each new face portrayed the same scathing glare and polite frown.

“I’m...not sure what I can do to assuage your concerns but I am going through with this game. With or without your approval.”

“Then there is no issue in the Velvet Room extending it’s services to your chosen players.”

The Stranger scowled. “I would rather you didn’t but...I suppose I can’t stop you.”

“You can’t.” Igor nodded.

The Stranger pushed himself off his chair, glaring furiously at the Velvet room residents.

“I see this trip was a waste for all parties.”

“Indeed.”

Lavenza hopped off her chair and brushed out any wrinkles before looking up at the Stranger. “Goodbye Uniter.”

Uniter?

“Farewell to you as well.” He nodded at her. The lights spilling through the glass dome began to dim, as if unseen shades were being drawn. The small shadows Akira were hiding in expanded until he could slip out from underneath the table and hide out in plain sight. Even so, he positioned himself out of view of ...the Uniter just to be safe. Although being spotted now that he was looking at it, he was sure the glass panel was no longer there. The chairs that were so defined before now barely resembled furniture.

This was his room, Akira realized, observing the tense man. He circled around him, gliding amongst the darkened floor as if on ice.

So this is the guy pulling the strings.

_ It is frustrating, to have him right in front of us and be cheated out of a real face, name, and voice. Yet another unfair advantage the enemy has against us. But it doesn’t matter, we’re the best at unfair games. _

Akira couldn’t agree more. As the world around them vanished into oblivion. Akira swore he’d make this Uniter pay.

The world was swallowed in darkness.

Then the very next moment Akira found himself sitting in a plush chair, in a dimly lit room with a vaguely familiar jazz melody playing in the background. In front of him sat Igor, his eerie smile in place and a raspy chuckle to fill the immediate tension Akira felt. Standing next to the big nosed man was Lavenza. Her face was a comical depiction of shock.

“Master, I’m so sorry.”

Igor stopped his unsettling chuckling.

“I Invited him here and told the trickster to come. I’m so sorry.”

“Peace Lavenza, I am not mad. While I don’t advise you to try this twice. In these circumstances, it is no violation to be punished.”

Lavenza lit up and gave Akira a beaming smile.

“So Trickster,” Igor leaned forward, staring directly at Akira. “What do you think of your adversary?”

What  _ did _ he think of him?

“I think Lavenza had him pegged.”

She blushed but seemed proud of herself all the same.

“Then allow me to press upon you this,” Igor raised a crooked finger up, “he is not to be underestimated.”

“I’ve guessed that.” Akira crossed his legs and leaned into his chair, letting the music wash over him. “So what was all that ‘on the other side of the mirror’ stuff about?”

“Ah,” the long nosed man nodded, “it is as he said. Your world and his are linked with one another. A more apt metaphor would be two sides of the same coin.”

“A world where personas are people and people are personas?”

“Precisely.”

“So...this guy is a persona on this side?”

“This side? Why Trickster, this place is the world of inbetween, there is no side. If, however, you meant your world then yes he would manifest as a persona.”

He mulled that over.

“Was he ever one of my personas?”

Akira held back a shiver as Igor stared at him with his eerie smile and bloodshot eyes.

“I do not believe so Trickster.” Lavenza answered, hugging the compendium to her chest. “And let us count that as a blessing.”

“What does that mean?”

“He has faced trials and tribulations that have allowed him to achieve abilities that he has only just begun to display.”

Akira narrowed his eyes. A thought coming to the forefront.

“You had called him  _ Uniter _ , was he a visitor of the Velvet Room too?”

Igor nodded.

“So he’s gone rogue?”

“As he has painstakingly tried to tell us, he has done nothing to break the rules of either world, and he is right. But I am not convinced this caution will be maintained as his game progresses.”

“And what are these rules?” he tugged at the edge of his gloves. Making sure to invoke Arsène to help keep himself in control. “And while I’m at it, where does it say that it’s cool to harass and torment a bunch of teens and an adult just going about their life?”

“I’m afraid the rules we are discussing fail to account for the personal level. They govern and regulate on the whole.”

“Kind of an oversight don’t you think?”

“Thus why we ask individuals such as yourself to help mend such gaps.” Igor wove his fingers together, his voice taking a serious tone. “The Uniter has maintained the separation of your worlds, but as is your role as a Trickster is to expose the fallacies of the norm and maintain order through chaos, it is as much his role to bring forces together.”

“Hasn’t he already done that?”

“No,” Lavenza cut in, “You can talk with and see through the other side, this is a minor show of his power and one that doesn’t disrupt things.”

“...But he’s not going to stop there.”

“Exactly.” both residents said in unison.

“You may find this frustrating Trickster,” Lavenza smiled at him, it was apologetic but sincere. “But we consider it fortuitous that out of the billions of people he could have chosen to play his game, that you and your friends were the ones to be picked. You have every right to be upset but...we trust you to come out on top.”

Akira sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Letting everything sink in.

Damn, they make it sound so easy.

“So I can rely on your support?”

“Naturally.”

“Of course!”

“In that case,” he straightened up, uncrossing his legs and drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “Can you do something about my missing personas?”

***

“And?” Morgana asked, his cute nose twitching. Akira shrugged.

“I woke up.”

“What! That’s it?”

“Yeah,” Akira scratched behind Morgana’s ear, “Lavenza was barely able open her mouth before I found myself staring up at my ceiling.”

Morgana narrowed his eyes.

“Has that happened before?”

He thought it over. “No actually, Igor usually dismisses me or at least lets me know that I’m waking up.”

“Hm, you don’t think it’s this Uniter guy do you?”

“Honestly Mona, it’s hard to tell at the moment.”

“Yeah,” he lashed his tail, “too many variables at the moment.” He perked up, “but Master Igor and Lady Lavenza believe in us. We can handle this guy, no problem!”

Akira smiled at his friend.

“Yeah. We got this.”

Morgana stretched and kneaded his chest before plopping down on Akira’s chest and curling up.

“We do, don’t we? Only need to find Haru and Yusuke’s personas and help them connect and we even got a plan to help Maruki connect with Azathoth too. Whatever this Uniter guy’s plan is, we’ll trounce him.”

Akira hummed in agreement, closing his eyes. Letting burgeoning hope and the distinct hollowness he’s felt since this whole thing started drift him off to sleep.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Akira how I missed thee!
> 
> Apologies for the long wait!
> 
> Again, I make no promises on when I'll post (cuz I can't keep them) but I do promise that I'm not giving up on this series. I will try not to make you guys wait for three months for the next update though. Oh god it was three months wasn't it? D:
> 
> 'Til next time!


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